The Gentleman
by TheCompositionNotebook
Summary: When the team is called out to a case not too far from home, they end up stumbling upon something much bigger and more dangerous than they ever expected. And not all of them make it out unscathed. Case-fic, and no pairings! Set around season seven!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So, here's chapter one of The Gentleman! I've been working on this story for months, and I've finally finished and am ready to post it! And I'm incredibly excited! So I hope you like it! :D**

**Get reading now, and enjoy!**

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Ernie pulled up to the large garage-turned-science lab, turning off his car and getting out, twirling the keys in his fingers. He could see lights on in the lab, which meant his wife, a dedicated researcher, was most likely hard at work. She'd recently had a breakthrough in her work finding a cure for cancer, landing her in the local paper and gaining herself a grant of a few thousand dollars.

He was very proud of his wife; there was no doubt about it. Though lately, she had been very distant. When she wasn't working in the lab she shared with other researchers at the University in town, she was working in her makeshift lab in the garage. In the last week, since her picture had appeared in the paper, she'd worked late into the night, often not making it into their house until the early morning hours.

He stopped and looked back into his car, noticing the white rose sitting on the dashboard. A delivery buy had brought it by his office building earlier that day, with a small, handwritten card bearing the message '_My Condolences_'. He hadn't the faintest idea who it was from or what it was supposed to mean. Nothing had happened to warrant that message, not since his father died two years previously. Well, unless you counted the sudden loss of his wife to her work. Maybe whoever sent it was someone with a rather sarcastic sense of humour.

He ambled over to the garage door, knocking a few times before opening it and stepping through. After a second, he spotted his wife on the far side of the room, her long dark hair pulled back and dressed in her long lab coat. She was peering at a slide through her microscope, fiddling with the knobs on the side.

"Allie?" he said, trying to gain her attention for just a few moments.

"Hello, dear," she responded, her eyes not moving from the end of the microscope.

"How was your day?" he asked kindly.

"Fine," she answered, picking up her pen and scribbling something down rapidly on a notepad. He sighed as she walked over to her desk, rifling through a tall stack of papers.

He was about to tell her he'd see her later and turn back to head into the house, recognizing that she was too busy to talk at the moment, when he spotted a red rose sitting on one of the tables next to the door. There was a card lying next to it, looking identical to the one he had lying in his car at the moment.

He stepped over and picked it up, flicking it open. It read '_My Apologies'_. He stared at it curiously for a moment, before turning back towards his wife.

"Hey, Allie?"

"Hm?"

"Did you get this flower delivered today?"

She irritably turned away from her desk, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Yes. A delivery boy showed up this afternoon," she said, immediately turning back to the paper she was poring over.

"That's strange. I got a flower too, a red one. But my card said 'My Condolences'," Ernie replied.

"Interesting."

"Do you know who sent them?"

"No. Honey, I'm sorry, but would you please go? I need to focus."

"Oh, alright. Of course. Sorry for bothering you," he said, quickly stepping back outside and shutting the door. He sighed and stared at the red flower still in his hands. It was good that she was putting so much time into her work. It was important work, after all. But he was starting to miss her.

He stopped at his car, picking up the white flower he'd set down on the hood, deciding he'd take them both in and stick them on the kitchen table.

He was halfway up the front porch when there was a loud, strange crackling noise from behind him. It made him stop and turn back towards the lab. There were often odd noises coming from the building, but he'd never heard anything like that.

After a few seconds, he shrugged and continued up to the front door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. Though, the next sound he heard made him freeze, sending his blood running cold. A high pitched scream piercing the calm silence of the quiet neighborhood. And it was unmistakably coming from the garage lab.

The roses slipped from his fingers as he jumped off the porch and began sprinting towards the building, and they landed on the pavement, forgotten. He was nearly up to the door when a sudden fiery explosion threw him backwards; slamming him into the ground and making him feel a sharp pain in the back of his head. He grappled with his sudden dizziness as he stood up, stars floating across his vision as he started to make his way towards the door again.

He fumbled for the doorknob for a few seconds, before he flung it open. The intense heat from inside hit him like a wall, making him stumble backward again, and he felt his hair and eyebrows being singed.

"Allie?" he called out desperately, trying to make his way past the fire that was blocking his way inside. "Allie!"

He strained his ears, and over the roar of the fire, he heard her call back weakly. She wasn't visible though, and whether she'd been hurt or was stuck somewhere out of his line of vision he wasn't sure.

He tried desperately to make his way into the building, but his sleeve abruptly caught fire and he recoiled, trying to beat it out. He ripped off his jacket and threw it on the ground, stamping it out and attempting to get in again, when suddenly someone was grabbing him, dragging him away from the fire. From his wife.

He fought against them, screaming his wife's name, his only thought about getting to her.

"Ernie! Ernie, stop! Let the firefighters go in! I called them, they're coming!" a voice said in his ear. He distantly recognized that it was one of his neighbors.

"No! Allie! I have to get Allie" he said, his arms suddenly growing tired, his neck suddenly feeling wet.

"Ernie, calm down! You're bleeding! You need to stop fighting, the firefighters will get there!"

It was true, they were coming. He could hear them over top of a strange buzzing that suddenly filled his head. But the building was still burning quickly, and she was still in there.

"No. Allie!" he tried to yell, but his voice came out weak. He was confused for a second. Why were his arms suddenly so tired? He was still attempting to fight off his neighbor and get back towards the burning building, when suddenly the world around him went black and he felt his knees slam into the pavement.

Detective Skinner pulled his cruiser over to the side of the road and jumped out, moving quickly towards the rest of the flashing lights. He ducked under the police tape, striding up to another Detective observing the CSI units as they picked through the wreckage.

"Detective Jacobs? How is it?"

She turned around as he called out to her. "Nathan," she said solemnly. He registered that she'd used his first name, noting that it had to be bad.

"So?" he asked nervously.

She sighed. "Alicia was trapped inside when the blast went off. The fire blocked her exit. She couldn't get out, Ernie couldn't get in. Even though he tried. And she had a large wound in her stomach. As far as we can tell, there must have been some piece of lab equipment that was thrown at her in the blast."

He shook his head slowly. Alicia had been a very friendly person. They'd met several times, and he'd liked her well enough. He couldn't imagine all of this happening to her.

"And how is Ernie doing?"

She nodded over towards the ambulance that was parked on the front lawn. They could just see that Ernie was sitting in the back, a paramedic looking at the back of his head. Tears were streaming down his face. Detective Skinner shook his head again.

That was when something laying on the pavement near the house caught his eye. "Oh, no," he muttered. He walked over and picked up the two flowers with their respective notes. The ones that were completely identical to the ones found at the last two murder scenes he'd visited.

Officer Jacobs walked up next to him, and they both stared grimly at the flowers, which were slightly crushed and looking like they'd been trodden on.

"Do we bring in help?" she asked slowly.

He nodded curtly. "We need the experts."

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**What'd you think? Reviews are majorly appreciated!**

**Also, there will be fifteen chapters and I'll try to update about every three days, just for reference.**

**Thanks guys!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and alerted! You guys are awesome! Hope you like it!**

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Reid walked into the empty Conference room, throwing his bag on the table and sitting down. He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking about the tragedy that lay in his book, which was sitting on the table back at his apartment. He'd unfortunately forgotten it on his way in. Hotch had sounded very solemn when he'd called to tell him to come in. Well, more solemn than usual.

He stared up at the empty screen that adorned the room, remembering each and every face that had appeared on it in the years he'd seen it. Each and every victim. He could remember their stories, their pain… and the satisfaction he'd felt when they were able to close each case. When they'd caught the UnSub, gotten the victims or their families the closure they needed.

He'd been thinking so hard about it, his brain moving so fast, he hadn't heard the door open, and hadn't seen JJ walk in and sit down next to him. Though he did snap out of the reverie when he felt a hand on his shoulder, startling him and causing him to jump.

"Spence? Are you alright?" she asked.

"Of course. Why?" he responded.

"I called your name three times and you didn't hear me."

"Did you? Sorry. I was just, uh, just thinking," he said quickly.

"Uh-oh," a voice called from the doorway. "That can't be good. Who let the genius think?"

"Hey Morgan," JJ said, rolling her eyes.

"Morning Princess. Pretty boy," Morgan said, winking at both of them.

"I've told you before. Don't call me Princess," JJ said, crossing her arms.

"Ooh, alright. Don't want to mess with you, anyway. Not after what you did to that UnSub last week," Morgan grinned, plopping down next to them at the table. "He's probably still nursing those injuries."

"What can I say? I was taught well," JJ said.

"The student became the master," Reid remarked, nodding.

"And the student could probably kick the master's ass," Prentiss said, walking in with Garcia.

"Yeah, sorry gumdrop," Garcia said, patting Morgan on the shoulder. "Our beautiful blonde here could most likely take you."

"Whoa, hold up. I can still hold my own," Morgan said defensively.

"I'd put my money on JJ," Hotch said, passing through the doorway with Rossi just behind him.

"Thank you," JJ said as Garcia began to set up the case for them to view.

"Sorry Morgan," Rossi said, smirking over at the Agent, who was looking slightly bewildered.

"Wait, wait. I-" Morgan started to say, before Hotch cut him off.

"Morgan, we're starting now."

Morgan sat back and crossed his arms as Garcia went around, passing out the files they needed.

"Oh, stop pouting," Prentiss said, before she was too silenced by Hotch's stern look. She kept an amused expression on her face as she flipped open the file she'd received, but it quickly faded as she took in the information contained inside.

Garcia stepped back up to the front and grabbed the remote for the screen, where a few pictures popped up. "In the last two weeks, there's been a recent string of murders in northern Maryland. The first, William Evans, aged fifty seven. He was the founder of a large nonprofit charity benefiting Alzheimer's. He was also found dead in his home office by his wife."

A large picture popped up then, showing a man with slightly greying hair wearing a suit and tie, slumped over a desk full of papers. "It says here that he was poisoned," Rossi said, flipping to one of the pages in the file.

"Correct-omundo," Garcia said, pushing another button and making a picture of a tipped over glass of scotch enlarge. "There was a good amount of poison found in his daily after work evening drink."

"At least he had good taste in scotch," Rossi remarked quietly to himself.

"The next victim was Joseph McAllister, better known as Joey. He was forty two, and a veteran police officer of twenty years. He was shot as he was leaving a bar with a few of his work buddies a week ago, and died before he made it to the hospital."

"What connects it to the other death, though?" Prentiss asked.

"Hold your horses. This gets freakier before it makes sense" Garcia said seriously. "The last death occurred last night. It was that of Alicia Jenson, thirty one. She was a researcher employed at a local university, and she had converted her garage into a home science lab. She was killed when an explosion went off."

"Alright, again. How do we know that was murder? And how do we know they're all connected?" Morgan asked, as the picture of a burned building popped up.

"The roses," Reid said, having read the farthest into the file.

"Indeed. That, my friends, is how we know they're all connected, and they're all murder. Six hours before each of the victims were killed, there were roses delivered to them and their closest family members," Garcia said. "The victims each got a red one with the attached note saying 'My Apologies', and the family members got a white rose with a note saying 'My Condolences'."

"An UnSub who apologizes in advance?" JJ asked skeptically.

"Since when have we had an UnSub that's considerate of others?" Morgan asked.

"It could be a female," Prentiss said.

"That's true. Statistically, females are much more likely to feel remorse for what they've done," Reid said quickly.

"But a female most likely wouldn't be trying all these different forms of killing," Hotch said.

"Then again, who would be?" Rossi asked.

There was a moment of silence, before Hotch said, "It's not far enough to take the jet, so we'll drive. We leave in half an hour."

They all packed up their things and left the room, going to find their go bags, Hotch and JJ calling to say they wouldn't be home. The mood was much more grave than it had been. Reid was the last one to leave, again alone in the room. Before he left he looked back at the screen, where the pictures of the victims and the crime scenes were still displayed. Three more names and faces to add to the ones stored in his brain.

* * *

He slowly pulled his car over and parked on the side of the road, producing a pair of binoculars out of the black bag on the passenger's seat. He wished he could have gotten closer, but the entire road was blocked off due to his… handiwork. This would have to do.

He pressed the binoculars to his eyes and surveyed the house and the newly blackened and burned garage, which were surrounded by crime scene tape. A few officers and detectives were still there, observing the crime scene investigators who were picking apart the ruins of the 'lab'.

He watched for a few minutes more, taking pleasure in watching the chaos and the ruin he'd caused, before a large, black SUV pulled up. Two people got out and quickly made their way to the house, flashing badges when they reached the crime scene tape.

Their appearance practically screamed 'FBI'. One was tall and stern, wearing a suit and tie and seeming to be in charge. The other, darker skinned and quite muscled, looked like a force to be reckoned with.

Perfect. He set down the binoculars and laughed. In fact, he couldn't stop laughing.

They'd called in the FBI. He'd have to step up his game. They'd be tracking his every move, of course. But that wasn't a problem. He always ensured absolute perfection.

He was more eager now than ever to have another victim to target. He could do a lot now. He put his car back in drive and pulled away, still laughing, off to see his boss for his next target.

**Reviews are always appreciated! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, here's chapter three! It's a bit longer than the others have been! Hope you like it!**

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The four agents slid out of the SUV, quickly walking towards the bustling police station. As they entered, a tall, brown haired Detective jumped up from a desk near the door and walked up to them. "You all must be the BAU," he said grimly, offering his hand to Rossi, who shook it.

"I'm Agent Rossi, and these are Agents Jareau, Prentiss, and Doctor Reid," Rossi said quickly, introducing them all. The tall man shook each of their hands in turn, looking slightly confused as Reid dismissed his hand and simply waved.

"Uh, nice to meet you all. Wish it was under different circumstances though. I'm Detective Skinner," the man said. "Weren't you all a team of six?"

"Agents Hotchner and Morgan already went to the crime scene," JJ answered. "Is there anywhere we can set up?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. We cleared out one of our old back rooms for you," Detective Skinner said, motioning for them to follow. He lead them to a room positioned almost directly at the back of the station, past a holding cell, a bathroom, and a few offices. JJ flipped a light switch and the lights flickered on, illuminating a decent sized room with a few small windows. There were two magnetic whiteboards, a large table, and several office chairs.

"This will be perfect, thank you," JJ said. They all filed inside, immediately setting to work. A few pictures and pages from the files were stuck up on one board, and Reid set about scribbling a few things on the other.

Just as they were finishing setting everything up, Detective Skinner poked his head around the doorframe. "Agents? A few of the family members of two of the victims are here, if you wanted to talk to them."

Behind him they could see a few people being led towards interview rooms, the last of which being a man who was dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. "Mr. Jenson," Prentiss said unnecessarily. "Which victim is the other woman related to?"

"The officer, Joey McAllen," Skinner answered.

"Alright. Why don't we split up and go talk to them," JJ said, staring after the distressed man.

"Prentiss and I can go talk to Mrs. McAllen. You and Reid go talk to Mr. Jenson," Rossi said. He and Prentiss followed the woman who had been lead into the interview room farthest down the hall.

"Come on, Spence," JJ said solemnly, and they walked down the hall to the room Detective Skinner pointed them to.

JJ knocked softly and pushed the door open, and they slowly walked in and sat down across the table from him. He was sitting with his head in his hands, a box of tissues placed next to him, most likely work of the female Detective standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Jenson?" JJ asked quietly.

"Please. Call me Ernie," he said, lifting his head and grabbing another tissue.

"Ernie. I'm Agent Jareau, and this is Doctor Reid. We're with the FBI. I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

"Sure. Anything I could do to help," he said, his voice cracking slightly.

"Thank you. We understand this is hard for you. We're sorry to ask, but could you go through what happened that night?"

He nodded his head, sniffing. "Uh, I got home at the normal time. Around eight," he said, his voice sounding hollow. "I went in to see her in her lab, but she was busy. She's always busy lately. At least, she was." He took a deep breath. "I let her get back to her work, and I was on my way back to the house when the explosion went off. I tried to get to her but… I, uh… I couldn't. My neighbor pulled me away. And I hit my head in the blast, the next thing I remember is waking up in the ambulance and the paramedic telling me…"

The Detective behind him put her hand on his shoulder as he broke down into a fresh wave of tears.

"What time did you receive the rose?" Reid asked after a few seconds.

"It was just after lunchtime, I think. I didn't see who delivered it, it was just dropped off," Ernie answered.

"Did your wife say anything about hers when you talked to her?" JJ asked.

"She said it came around the same time mine did. Two o'clock or so."

"Okay. Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt your wife?" JJ asked.

"No! That's the thing. Everyone liked her. And especially now, when she was so close to a breakthrough…"

"A breakthrough?" Reid asked. "In what?"

"With her research. She was researching cures for diseases. She was just about to make a major breakthrough in her work to cure cancer. That's mainly why I hadn't seen her in the past few weeks a lot. She'd had a big article in the paper. Any time she hadn't spent in the lab, she was taking interviews and in meetings," Ernie said, looking proud.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, and Rossi stuck his head in, nodding towards the hall. Reid stood and excused himself, leaving JJ to talk to Ernie. "What's up?" Reid asked as the door swung shut behind him.

"Your victim just had a big article in the paper?" Rossi said. Reid nodded. "Well, so did ours."

Reid looked over to the room where Prentiss was still sitting with the wife of the deceased police officer. She was just handing over a newspaper clipping from her purse.

"Do you think the UnSub is picking victims who are featured in the paper?" Reid asked.

"It depends on whether our last victim had one or not," Rossi said.

"Well, then we'd better get looking."

* * *

He pulled the car to the side of the road again, this time hopping out and making his way into a shabby apartment building. He walked straight in, timing his way perfectly so that he met an occupant of the building on her way out. He smiled and held the door open for her. Didn't they realize how easy it was to get past a simple locked door?

The back staircase was located on the other side of the building, so he walked down the long hall full of doors, jovially greeting any people he saw. He took the stairs two at a time, all the way up to the top floor. The door closest to the stairs was the one he was headed for, and he stopped there, knocking twice.

"Just a minute!" he heard a slightly raspy voice call out. Then the sound of shuffled footsteps, followed by nearly twenty seconds of locks being undone. The door cracked open just enough to see a green eye peering through, accompanied by shaggy brown hair. "Nikolas?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm not an imposter." He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. They went through this drill every single time.

"But an impostor would say that too," the raspy voiced man responded.

"Listen, I am Nikolas. You gave me a question to answer to prove my identity. Ask it."

There was a moment of suspicious silence, before the man said, "When does the duck fly?"

"It doesn't fly. It's dead."

The owner of the green eye still looked a bit skeptical, but the door closed and the rest of the chains slid off. Nikolas looked around to make sure there wasn't anyone watching and slid through the door as soon as it opened, closing it quickly behind himself.

The room he stepped into was anything but welcoming. It was very dark, all the windows blacked out and the light switches broken. The only light came from a small lamp that was missing its shade, sitting on the floor next to a once ornate wooden chair that was now covered in scratches. The ground was littered with crumpled paper and other garbage, the walls almost completely covered in newspaper clippings. A small TV as in the corner of the room opposite the chair and lamp, several notebooks perched on top.

The first few times he'd entered the apartment, he couldn't help but stare around at the walls and try to take in everything. But by now he was used to it.

"I've completed my last mission," Nikolas said as the other man sat down in the chair. The Boss, as Nikolas called him, seeing as he didn't yet know his name.

"Yes. I noticed. You did very well," the Boss said, nodding towards a spot on the wall. The newspaper article on the home explosion was stuck up there, proudly displayed next to the two other articles announcing the death of the officer and the charity owner.

"Thank you," Nikolas replied, nodding calmly. He was eager to get to the next part of the conversation, but he knew the best way to play his hand in this situation. He had to remain neutral. Showing his excitement last time had earned him several days of waiting, as the Boss had been suspicious. Nikolas kept his face completely impassive, an easy feat. He didn't have to try hard to fool people.

And sure enough, from an inside pocket of the ripped and stained jacket he was wearing, the Boss produced an envelope. "I have another assignment for you. I've been watching this one for several days now. Looks pretty harmless, but he's the farthest thing from it. You'd best be very cautious about this one."

"No problem. I'll get the job done quickly," Nikolas replied.

"Yes, yes. The article is in there, so you'll have everything you'll need. And your payment is included, don't worry about that. Just get your mission done."

"No problem, Boss," Nikolas said, giving a curt nod once again. "Shall I let myself out?"

"No!" the Boss nearly screeched. "I need to come and make sure my door is locked before you leave! The second you go, the very second you disappear from sight of my door, _they _could show up. And if my door isn't locked…"

"Who are they?" Nikolas asked, not for the first time. But he got the same answer he always did. None. The Boss just wrung his hands together, mumbling to himself as he shuffled towards the door.

Nikolas was quickly shooed out, and with one more reassurance that he'd stay outside the door for the time it took the locks to be redone, the door snapped shut. Nikolas realized as he stood there that he'd never mentioned that the FBI was working on the mysterious deaths now. In fact, he'd never mentioned that anyone was.

Though, it was probably wise that he hadn't. The Boss would have freaked out, most likely thinking there was another conspiracy against him, like the one the people in the paper supposedly had. And if he became upset enough, he could attack again. Like the second time Nikolas had been to his apartment. He'd left that day with a large bandage around his arm, an attempt to stop the bleeding from the large slash the Boss had caused with the silver knife he kept on himself at all times.

Besides, the Boss may stop giving assignments. And that would be unacceptable. Nikolas enjoyed them far too much for them to stop.

The scraping of locks being re-locked from behind the door stopped and a sharp knock sounded, signaling him to go. He walked back down to his car, eager to rip into the envelope and find his next target.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four, here we go! I hope you guys are liking the story so far!**

* * *

An old man. That was his next target. He was never really picky about who he killed. He'd killed all kinds of people before. But he wasn't a complete maniac. He was civilized. He couldn't blow up an old man. Or shoot him. Plus, he couldn't have a fight or a good target to aim at.

No, he'd take pity on the old man. He'd kill him in a very neat manner. Maybe poison. He had a good stock of it in a hidden compartment in the trunk of his car. It would he quick and easy. He just had to wait the six hours required from the time his delivery man dropped off the roses.

That was okay. He could wait. He was a patient person. Well, usually.

He parked his car a few streets away, in the far end of a busy parking lot. He reclined the seat a bit and stretched out. A nap would be alright. A perfect way to pass the time.

* * *

Emily was just in the process of pinning the article she'd received from Officer McAllen's widow up on the board when Hotch and Morgan returned from the crime scene. "Nothing much?" she asked, judging from their expressions.

"It seemed basically cut and dry. A gas leak in the lab got too close to a Bunsen burner," Hotch said.

"But it makes no sense. That's a rookie mistake. She's been working with that equipment nearly every day for years of her life. After all those years, you don't just suddenly slip up and leave a Bunsen burner unattended," Morgan said.

"Maybe she'd just found another breakthrough and was excited though? She just set it in the wrong place?" JJ suggested, walking into the room.

"Her instincts would have stopped her though. She most likely would have had to smell the gas. To make an explosion of that magnitude, you had to have a good amount of it," Reid spoke up.

"So what are we saying happened?" Emily said. "The UnSub snuck in and triggered the explosion, sneaking out before it happened?"

"How wouldn't she have noticed someone rigging an explosion, though? And wouldn't she have been able to get out before it blew?"

"Well, in the autopsy, they said that a lab knife was thrown into her abdomen in the blast. But what if it wasn't the blast? What if someone broke in, stabbed her to subdue her, and then rigged the explosion to go off after they left?" Morgan said.

"The UnSub would have had to move quickly," Hotch said. "He couldn't have had more than thirty seconds to do all of that."

"Is it possible that he was already waiting inside the lab?" JJ asked. "He was hiding in a storage closet or something and just came out after Ernie left? What time did she get there?"

"Neighbors reported that they saw her arrive home at around six," Reid answered. "Assuming she walked into the house before she went in, getting something to eat, dropping things off, getting changed, you could give it another twenty minutes, maybe. So he would have had to wait somewhere for an hour and a half at least."

"We've seen crazier things before," Morgan said. "And assuming this guy had broken in with enough time to set everything up, he could have come out from wherever he was, stabbed her, rigged up the explosion to go off, then snuck out and run far enough to where he wasn't hurt by the explosion."

"So we know how all of them were killed. But how is he choosing his victims? These aren't random kills. The detail and planning is way too meticulous," Hotch said.

"Actually, we think we found a lead on that," Reid said, hopping up and walking over to the board. "Both of the victim's family members we talked to said they'd been featured in the newspaper. And with Evans, he was always in the news for something or another. He was a generous guy, well known."

"So he picks his victims because they're in the newspaper," Morgan said. "Were the two articles from the same publication?"

"No. The two articles were from different papers, and Evans was featured in several different ones," JJ answered.

"Okay, well that's a lead, at least. Were there any other connections between the victims?" Hotch asked.

"Not that we've found, but we have Garcia working on it."

"Alright. Well, in the meantime, let's get reading the paper."

* * *

An hour before his six were up, Nikolas had left his car in the parking lot, strolling casually towards the home of the old man and his wife. He had everything he'd need in the pocket of his jeans, which he wore to blend in with the everyday crowd. Even though he was the farthest thing from 'ordinary'.

He rounded the corner onto the correct street, the house he was headed to coming into view. He ducked quickly behind it, finding the window he knew would be left open. The old woman inside was incessantly blathering away, and got there just in time to hear her say, "… You know you need to drink it, the Doctor said you were dehydrated, you need to be getting more liquids."

"Yes, dear," the soon to be dead man replied, sounding slightly irritated. "Now you said you needed to go to the store. Why don't you get going?"

"Alright, but you had better have that glass empty by the time I get back," she said sternly. "I'll be back in an hour."

That took care of the problem of the wife. Nikolas could hardly believe his luck as he heard the garage door open and the engine of a car start up. Could this possibly get any easier? He almost laughed as he watched the man leave the room, lumbering down the hall towards the bathroom.

The window screen was simple enough to pull off. He climbed through nimbly, pulling the little vial of clear liquid out of his pocket. He crept over to the glass of water sitting on the small table next to the easy chair, unstopping the vial and pouring a few drops in. He picked up the glass and gave it a quick swirl, with gloved hands, of course. Perfect.

He was just in the process of re-stopping the vial, when he noticed the car pulling back into the driveway. The old lady. What was she doing back so soon? No matter, his mission was accomplished. He was out the window with the screen put back up before she even hobbled through the front door.

Nikolas sat under the window for a few minutes, listening as the man came out of the bathroom and asked her what she was doing back, and her replying that she'd forgotten her shopping list. And again, she told him to drink his water. There was a moment of silence before he heard the distinct sound of the glass being placed back down on the table. "There. Happy?" the man said.

"I am, actually," his wife replied. "And I'll be even happier once you finish it completely."

"Alright, I will, I will. Now go."

"Love you, dear."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

She left again, driving off in her car, unsuspecting of the fact that she'd just told her husband that she loved him for the last time. And that she'd encouraged him to drink the very thing that would take his life. Nikolas could have laughed again.

After a minute, he peered back in the window. The glass was just under half empty now. The old man was already passed out in his chair. He'd be dead within minutes.

Perfect.

**Review? Pretty please? Last chapter I didn't get one review! I love to hear what you guys think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the feedback guys! Hope you keep liking the story!**

* * *

Reid, Morgan, and Emily climbed out of the SUV, looking up at the house that now contained yet another dead man and his grieving widow. They ducked under the crime scene tape, being watched closely by the rest of the street, the residents all curiously peering out the windows of their homes. Detective Skinner was already waiting for them at the front door, and launched right into telling them about the newest victim.

"Norman Jenkins. Aged seventy seven. He lived here with his wife, Millie. She told me that a delivery boy showed up at around nine thirty this morning with the flowers."

"Nine thirty? Isn't that pretty early for deliveries?" Emily asked as they walked into the living room, where the body was located.

"I asked her about that. She said that she'd commented on it to the delivery man, and he said the company he worked for had just started opening at nine," Detective Skinner replied.

"What business is that?" Morgan asked.

"She said it was a locally owned place. A small shop called Sandy's Floral, downtown."

"Okay. We're gonna need to talk to the owner of that place. It could lead us to our UnSub," Morgan said.

"Hey guys, look at this," Reid called from the kitchen. They followed his voice to find him standing next to the kitchen table, which held a vase of two roses, two small cards, several bottles of medication, a stack of mail, and a clipped out newspaper article.

"It's definitely the same guy, then," Prentiss said, flipping open one of the cards. "My Apologies, and My Condolences. One white, one red."

"And the article I found, I remember reading it earlier," Reid said. "Norman was just just featured because he's a historian for the town library, which was been standing for over a hundred years three weeks ago."

"Okay, so we know the article that put him where he is now," Emily said, walking over and scanning it.

"Which is laid out on his easy chair and being examined by a bunch of police officers and a medical examiner," Morgan said, shaking his head as he walked back into the living room.

"He was killed by poison again," Reid said, following and kneeling next to the table to examine the half empty glass. "The UnSub killed the first victim by poison as well. He might have a cycle that he repeats with how he kills."

"Kill by poison, kill by shooting, kill by fire, and then repeat?" Emily said, raising her eyebrows.

"Possibly. Or he might just be picking whatever is easiest at the time," Reid said.

"Or just whatever he's in the mood for," Morgan said disgustedly.

"It's probably the same poison as used last time," Reid said slowly, barely listening to the other two. "Clear, tasteless, odorless… Completely undetectable."

Morgan's phone suddenly went off, and he pulled it off of his belt holster. "Hey Baby Girl, what's up? … Alright, hold on, let me put you on speaker."

Morgan clicked a button on his phone and held it out, so Garcia's voice was clearly heard by all of them. "Bow down to me, peasants, for I am your fair and beautiful ruler of technology and breakthroughs in freaky murder cases."

Detective Skinner looked at the phone strangely, causing the three Agents to share amused looks.

"Alright, what have you got for me mama? It had better be something good," Morgan said.

"Oh, it is. I just put a crack in your murder case, because I know who your killer is."

"That's our smart and sassy tech girl," Morgan said, smiling a little.

"You forgot sexy, sweet cheeks. Anyway, in my many searches across the interwebs, I discovered something. Actually, several somethings. In the last few years, all around the country, there have been murders happening with the same signature as yours, the roses. Usually anywhere from a week to a few months apart and never in the same place, at least until now."

"Okay, so we have a travelling killer on our hands who isn't travelling anymore?" Emily said.

"Oh, hold on my lovely, because I haven't even gotten to the best part yet. All of these murders are the work of a hit man that has been nicknamed 'The Gentleman'."

"I suppose that makes sense, seeing as he apologizes to both the victims and the families before he murders," Emily muttered, tilting her head to the side.

"What all is known about this guy?" Morgan asked.

"Ah. That my friends, is where the trail runs cold. This guy is like a ghost. No one knows what he looks like, what he drives, anyone he knows, basically who he is. He's never been caught or seen. And so far, with this last murder, he's killed thirty five people."

"In thirty five murders, not one person has seen this guy? He hasn't slipped up once?" Morgan asked disbelievingly.

"This guy is good. Crazy good. Totally off the grid," Garcia said. "And you know if anyone could find out information on him, I could."

"True. Alright, thanks Baby Girl," Morgan said, hanging up the phone.

"That's quite the Techie you've got there," Detective Skinner said, still looking mildly confused.

"She's the best," Morgan said.

"And now we know the name of this guy," Emily said. "Or at least, what people call him."

"But we're no closer to catching him than we were before," Morgan said.

"Plus, now we've got to track down two different people," Reid said. "This Gentleman guy and the person who is employing him."

"That changes a lot of things," Morgan said.

"Alright. Well, let's get back to the station," Emily said. "Garcia will probably have a bunch of information waiting for us. And if she hasn't already, we can tell the others."

"See you all back there then," Detective Skinner said. "I've got to finish up here."

The three agents bid him farewell, walking back to their SUV, again being watched carefully by the people observing the crime scene all over the street. But this time, one man in particular was watching them with a hat pulled over his eyes, chuckling to himself as they drove straight past him and didn't even spare him a second glance. He stared after them as they disappeared down the street, turning the corner towards the police station.

How were they expecting to catch him if they looked right over him? He laughed. Perfect.

* * *

**So, how was it? We know a bit more about the UnSub now! And things are gonna start picking up soon!**

**Remember to leave a review, please?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here we go guys! Chapter six, hope you like it!**

* * *

Morgan parked the vehicle in the parking lot of the station and the three Agents trooped back inside, heading towards the room to discuss the new information they had with the others. Though Reid, who had been chewing his lip most of the way back, stopped and called, "I'll catch up in a minute guys."

"You alright, Reid? You seemed a bit distracted on the way here," Morgan asked, turning to look at him.

"Fine. Just thinking. I'm going to stop in the bathroom," Reid said, waving the other two on. He watched them until they were safely back into their room and into conversation, before he walked over to a table at the side of the room and set his bag down. He dug around in it for a few seconds before pulling out a few days old newspaper.

It was a smaller publication, not like the bigger ones they'd found involved in this case. So there wasn't really any way that anything could come of it, right?

He flipped to the seventh page, his eyes landing on a small portion of the bottom corner. The small article covered barely a fourth of a page.

'**FBI's Youngest Profiler Breaks the Case.** _Dr. Spencer Reid, the Behavioral Analysis Unit's youngest member, made the break that solved the case of the mass murderer that had been attacking women in southern Virginia, saving the life of Monica Wilkins. She'd been abducted by the murderer, or 'UnSub', as the BAU calls them, the day before. This case marks the two hundredth case that Dr. Reid has helped to solve since joining the BAU '. _

The article went on to talk briefly about a few of the other 'notable' things he'd done, and the BAU itself. Nonetheless, there was still a smiling picture of himself at the top. But that didn't mean anything. Different publication, a small article near the back, easy to miss. It was a paper from a totally different part of the state. There was no way this UnSub would see it, no way that anything would happen. Right?

Definitely. There was no chance. He shoved the newspaper back in his bag and threw it over his shoulder again, heading back into the BAU's room. He smiled as they all looked his way. "What are we talking about?"

"Well, if this 'Gentleman' guy is a hit man, we've got to assume he's being hired by someone. But who?" Morgan said.

"Who could have something against all these people?" JJ asked. "They're all good guys. One veteran cop, one a historian working to preserve an old building, one a researcher on the brink of a breakthrough, one a local charity owner."

"It could be possible that it's someone who's jealous at these people's success. Though most normal people don't kill four others out of jealousy," Rossi said.

"It could be plausible that whoever is hiring this guy is a schizophrenic," Reid said quickly, jumping up and taking a look at the board. "They could believe that these people are conspiring against them. There's one line or one word in these articles that sticks out to them and makes them think they're being targeted."

"That could definitely explain the randomness of the victims," Hotch said. "Other than them being in the papers, Garcia found absolutely no connections between them."

Right on cue, Morgan's phone started ringing again, and he picked it up, smiling. "Baby girl, how did you know we were just talking about you?"

"Because I'm obviously magical. How else could I be so amazing? Anyway, I've been tracking your Gentleman all over the country. His first documented kill was in northern Wisconsin. From there he went to Virginia, then to Texas, then to South Carolina, Oregon, North Dakota, crisscrossing all over the country. He only struck once in each place, as I said before weeks or months in between. This is the first time he's killed multiple times, and within the span of a few days."

"Were any of the employers of this guy ever caught?" JJ asked.

"All of them got away, save for one in Arizona. She and the woman she'd had killed openly hated each other. They had apparently gotten into several physical altercations leading up to the murder. It wasn't really any question that she'd arranged it," Garcia said. "And when she was questioned, she gladly confessed that she'd set it up, but refused to give up who she'd hired."

"Did she give a reason why?" Hotch asked, looking at the phone with his brows furrowed.

"She said that it was in the contract she'd set up with him that she couldn't. And that she didn't really know herself."

"How could she not know?" Prentiss asked, brows furrowed.

"Let me see… Ah, there. She said that he contacted her mainly through single use cell phones and she only ever met him face to face one time, and she never got a good look at his face."

"Alright, thanks Garcia. Can we assume you're already working on sending the complete list over?" Hotch asked.

"Would you doubt me, sir? Of course. I've been faxing it to the station for this entire conversation."

A few of them chuckled. "Thanks Baby Girl," Morgan said, hanging up.

"I'll go get the papers," Reid offered quickly. He stood and walked out of the room, finding his way to the fax machine, which was still printing a document that was nearly seventy pages.

He grabbed the half that had already printed, flipping through them and taking in the information, picking up the new ones as they printed. A list of thirty five victims.

His name wasn't about to join that list. It couldn't.

* * *

Nikolas rapped on the door, and as usual, went through the process of proving he was really himself, the locks being undone and being quickly ushered into the apartment.

"Nikolas," the Boss said warmly. Well, as warmly as the Boss could, which by regular standards wasn't very warmly at all. "I didn't expect you so soon. You didn't run into trouble, did you?"

"No, no. I completed the last mission," Nikolas said.

"Already? My, you are becoming more efficient, aren't you? Wonderful!" the Boss said, looking his brand of excited. At times, he could seem almost completely normal and lucid, like he did today. Other times, he seemed… well. Like a complete nutcase.

"Well, Boss. I told you when you hired me, you were hiring the very best," Nikolas said.

"You were correct. And you can call me Pazel, you don't need to keep calling me 'Boss'."

"Pazel? Is that your name? It's very… different," Nikolas said.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" he said, as he went to sit down and began to rummage through the papers he had stacked up. "I hadn't prepared for you to come so soon, but I do have the next target picked out."

The Boss, or Pazel now, grabbed a paper from near the bottom of the stack, ripping it out and sending the papers above it sliding across the floor. He didn't seem to care, however, excitedly opening it and turning it to a page in the middle. Nikolas's eyes wandered to the wall behind him, where the articles on his murders were. Only three of them were there so far, as there hadn't been time for the old man to make it in the papers yet. Though there was a slight empty spot on the wall next to them, awaiting that article and those to come.

"Er, Pazel?" Nikolas asked. He didn't really react, but Nikolas assumed he was listening. "How long are you going to require my… services?"

"Why?" Pazel said, lowering the paper, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Oh, no reason. I was merely curious. No need to worry. I'm in no hurry to leave this partnership we have going," Nikolas answered.

"Good. Because I will keep giving you assignments as long as necessary. Until we get rid of all… _those_ people," Pazel said, his face taking on a look of disgust.

"Quite right. We can't let any of them stay around," Nikolas agreed. In all honesty, he didn't think any of those he killed were really bad. They seemed like pretty decent people. But if Pazel told him to kill them, he certainly wasn't going to say no.

"Exactly. I'm glad you see it my way," Pazel said, before turning back to the paper. "Ah. Here we are. This one really needs to go."

He ripped the bottom half of one of the pages off, and then ripped it in half again, handing over the part in his right hand. Nikolas grabbed it and scanned it quickly, almost breaking out into a fit of laughter. But he managed to keep his face straight and stick it in his pocket.

"This one may be a bit more difficult than the rest of them," Pazel said. "Feel free to take as long as you need."

"Oh, that won't be necessary. I'll be back tomorrow evening as long as everything goes according to plan," Nikolas said.

"Wonderful! You're the best employer I've had. You're much better than the last few. None of them even completed their missions," Pazel said, looking impressed.

"Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go. I've got a lot to plan."

"Of course. By all means," Pazel said, following him to the door and ushering him out. The familiar sounds of the locks re-locking were sounded from the other side of the door, and he was anxious to get moving, but waited until he heard the knock that signaled him that he could leave.

Nikolas walked quickly down to his car, driving a few blocks away before he pulled over and pulled out the ripped article again. This time he allowed himself to laugh loudly at the smiling picture and the name in the first line of text.

Spencer Reid.

This ought to be fun.

* * *

**Uh oh... Things are starting to pick up now! What do you think? Review and let me know!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven, here we go! Hope you guys like it!**

* * *

There had to be a connection. A pattern of some sort. It couldn't just be random.

Reid stared at the map on the board, red dots in the places the previous murders had taken place, black lines connecting each of them. There was a star around the the dot in northern Wisconsin, where the line began, and from there it snaked around the country, all leading up to the cluster of them stuck in Maryland.

He couldn't have just wandered. There had to be some sort of pattern. This guy was way too meticulous, his planning being so detailed… it couldn't have been random.

He heard someone come into the room, saying something along the lines of, "Delivery for the BAU? I was directed back here?"

"Yeah, here's fine," Reid said, jumping up to study the pattern along the west coast. They'd been expecting a few files to come in from Virginia, the second place of murder. They'd decided it was important to study the UnSub's evolution, starting from the beginning.

"Okay, there you go, buddy," the delivery guy said, and Reid heard the footsteps walking back out.

"Yeah, thanks," Reid said quietly. He suddenly realized what it must be, the pattern behind the murders. It was so painstakingly simple that he was amazed he hadn't seen it before. He'd just been looking at it the wrong way. It wasn't a map he needed. It was a list of the murder sites. It wasn't geographical at all.

Reid turned to the table to grab a notepad and a pen, something to write down his ideas and make sure he was right, but was stopped by the presence of the thing the delivery guy had brought.

His heart started beating so loudly that he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his throat started constricting, his fingers shaking as he reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes.

This couldn't be. It wasn't.

He kick started himself back into action, stumbling slightly as he walked to the door. His vision started swimming in front of him, but he blinked hard and everything jumped back into focus.

Reid scanned the people milling about, sitting at desks, talking to each other in hushed tones. He finally found Hotch standing with Detective Skinner just outside his office, Rossi off to the side. He froze for a second, debating whether he could keep this to himself, not bother the rest of the team so that they could stay focused on the case and not worry about him.

But, no. He had to tell them. They were in danger too. This guy wouldn't hesitate to hurt them, he was sure.

So he made his way over to them, walking quickly and attempting to act calm.

"Hotch," he said his voice surprisingly level and even.

"One second, Reid," Hotch said, turning back to say a few more words to the Detective, words Reid didn't hear owing to the slight buzzing in his ears. Rossi, however, turned to look at him, seeming like he knew that something was wrong.

"Hotch," Reid said again, his voice suddenly betraying him and shaking slightly. That got Hotch's attention, and he turned his full attention to him, looking alarmed.

"What. What is it?"

"Um… we got… a… in our room," Reid managed to get out.

Hotch immediately started walking to the room, passing through the desks and chairs, Rossi hurrying along behind him. Reid stood numbly with Detective Skinner, who was looking after the Agents like he wanted to follow.

Hotch had barely been in their room for ten seconds when he came bursting back out, already on the phone, no doubt getting the rest of the team back to the station from various interviews they were conducting around the town. Detective Skinner awkwardly walked away from where he was standing with Reid, going over to ask Rossi what was going on.

And suddenly, the entire station was one big flurry of activity, people moving quickly and shouting instructions.

Reid walked slowly back to their room, staring at the vase on the tale. Seven flowers. Six white, one red.

He didn't have to look to know his was the red one.

* * *

Reactions. They'd always interested him. The reactions of the police and the family members to the murders. And this time, it was even more fun than usual. He was able to witness the reaction to the roses, as the police knew what their significance was. Everyone in the station was running around, half frantic, half panicking. He'd threatened the life of one of their precious FBI Agents.

Some might think it would be hard to get at the Agent. He laughed. It was so simple. So… easy. The Agent would be dead by that night. By far, it would be his most exciting kill. He'd never killed anyone of such status. Police officers, yes. Well known business men, company owners, lawyers, managers, yes. But never before an FBI Agent.

Nikolas laughed again, before driving several blocks away to a busy lot to take his usual nap. It helped to give him a clearer head. He kicked his seat back, smirking. He could hardly wait.

* * *

"You're sure, Reid?" Hotch asked. Reid sighed.

"I didn't actually turn around to see who it was. I was too focused on breaking the pattern, and I thought it would be the files from Virginia," Reid answered. "But it was definitely a male, mid-twenties."

"Well, we've always got the security cameras," Rossi said reassuringly, but at that moment Detective Skinner walked over, looking grim.

"Actually, we don't," he said. "We checked all of them. He obviously had knowledge of where they were. He managed to hide his face from every one of them. No identifying clothes or body abnormalities. We sent the footage over to your tech analyst already, but we aren't expecting to get anything from it."

"Alright, thank you," Hotch said, nodding as the Detective walked away.

There were a few more moments of silence as they all stared at the seven flowers. "I did break the pattern, though," Reid said quietly.

"What was it?" Rossi asked, looking a bit like he wanted to add '_Though why would it really matter now?'_

"It looks random on the map, but if you take the name of the states and put them in a list, it's every third state alphabetically. Backwards," Reid said.

"Who operates like that?" Rossi said. "Wouldn't it be more convenient to just go state by state? Or at least in normal alphabetical order?"

"Maybe he has to. It could be a compulsion," Hotch said.

"Or he's just doing it to skip around and make it harder to trace him," Reid said. He looked out at the station, noticing Morgan, JJ and Prentiss coming through the front doors and making their way to the back, looking slightly frantic.

"Hotch, what's going on?" Prentiss asked quickly. "You said it was urgent."

Hotch turned an eye to the flowers, and the other three stared for a moment before Morgan spoke up.

"Oh no. That's not what I think it is."

"Oh, yes. It is. Seven roses, six white, one red. Bearing condolences and an apology," Rossi said.

"They're for us?" JJ asked, sounding astounded. "But we haven't been in the papers! Which of us could possibly be targeted?"

Reid shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Hotch and Rossi looked over at him.

"God damn it," Morgan said, rubbing his neck as he stared at Reid's guilty face, realizing it was him.

"Oh, Spence. No," JJ said softly.

"Of course it's me. It's almost always me, isn't it? As I've said before, I don't ever have any normal fans," Reid said, forcing a little smile.

"But when were you in the paper?" Prentiss asked.

"A few days ago. Just a little piece in the back of the paper. A lesser known publication, too. But I guess it was enough for the UnSub, though," Reid said, motioning to the board where he'd pinned the article he meant to send to his mother.

JJ went to study it as Morgan walked over to the flowers. "When did these get here?"

"Just over half an hour ago," Reid answered. "I didn't get a look at the guy."

"Well, I can tell you one thing," Prentiss said. "I went to talk to the owner of that flower shop that the flowers were delivered from. Apparently, they don't do deliveries. They don't even have any male employees."

"That rules that out, then," Hotch said. "Listen, we've got over five hours. We're going to make sure this guy doesn't touch Reid."

Reid forced another smile as everyone nodded firmly. But still… he couldn't help but feel an ominous sense of fear creeping up on him.

* * *

**I always love to hear what you guys have to say! So review, review, review! Okay? :D Thanks guys!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope you guys keep liking the story! Here's chapter eight, enjoy! And let me know what you think!**

* * *

Nikolas sat outside the station for a while, watching the people go in and out. He was already disguised. And well, too. He looked nothing like himself. Short, greying hair and a thin mustache. Nothing out of the ordinary. Silver spectacles perched on his nose, and wearing nice jeans and an older sports jacket. Nothing he'd ever wear, but necessary for the disguise. It made him mostly inconspicuous.

He watched the proceeding inside from his car, seeing the people moving around, much less chaotic than before. It had been over five hours, after all. No one was in panic mode. Well, yet. Given another half hour, they probably would be. It was just a pity he'd be gone by then.

He spotted one of the Agents walking out of the building. Not his target, which was a shame. It would have made his job a whole lot easier. He didn't mind watching her, though. She was a piece of work. Blonde. Beautiful. He could have had fun with that one.

Nikolas looked back to the clock on his dashboard. Just ten minutes until the six hour mark hit. His fingers started tingling. It was time to set his plan in motion. He cleared his throat and got out of the car, walking calmly towards the station.

He walked through the doors and was immediately stopped by one of the officers. He expected that, though. Everyone was being stopped now that an FBI Agent's life was in danger.

"Excuse me sir, how can I help you?"

"Oh, yes," Nikolas responded. "My name is Chris. How are you?"

He shook hands with the officer, who said, "Fine, thank you. What brings you here?"

"Oh, I just had a question about a parking violation. See, my daughter got a ticket the other day. She lives in Washington D.C., bless her. She's a city girl. But she called to ask my help, and I didn't know much about it. So I thought I'd come down and get an opinion of someone who knows. And you look pretty smart, I'm sure you'll be able to help."

"Oh, well yes, I could," the officer said, looking slightly proud. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Sure, thank you," Nikolas said.

Perfect.

* * *

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock kept moving, closer and closer to the six hour mark. All the other kills had taken almost exactly six hours after the flowers had arrived. But he was sitting in a police station. He wasn't about to leave, and there were a couple of officers watching the front doors, stopping anyone who walked in. He was safe.

Reid snuck a look over at Morgan, who was sitting at the table near him, studying the contents of a folder. Morgan had said that he'd stay with him in the back and make sure that nothing happened. Reid sighed, tapping his foot on the ground.

After a minute of the constant tapping, Morgan looked up. "You alright, Reid?"

"Besides having a standing death threat on me by a professional hit man, I'm just fine," Reid responded.

Morgan chuckled a little. "Listen, Reid. You're going to be fine. If this guy thinks he's getting at you while you're in a police station, he's got another thing coming. Especially because he'd have to get through me."

Reid smiled and nodded. "Yeah," he said, looking down at his hands. He tried again to concentrate on the paper in front of him, but found it impossible. His mind kept wandering off. And really, there wasn't much to do. So he settled himself on staring out the window, watching a squirrel scamper around, the ticking of the clock in his ears.

After a few more minutes, Reid sighed and stood up, catching Morgan's attention. "Bathroom," Reid said dismissively. "I want to splash some water on my face."

"Want me to come?"

"It's just the bathroom. I'll be fine," Reid said dismissively.

"Alright," Morgan said, nodding before he turned back to the papers he was studying.

Reid stepped out into the hall, pushing open the bathroom door and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked pale, and a bit tired. He turned on the faucet, running the water and getting his hands wet, rubbing at his face a bit.

The door open behind him, and he immediately took his hands away from his face, staring at the man who had come in through the mirror. Grey hair, dressed nicely in a light coloured jacket. He wouldn't have taken too much notice, but the man said, "Howdy."

"Hello," Reid mumbled back.

"You look a bit sickly, there," the guy said, stepping up to the sink next to him and beginning to wash his hands.

"Rough day," Reid replied suspiciously.

* * *

"Sorry to hear that," Nikolas said. He could tell the Agent was shaken up by the whole thing. Unsteady, nervous. Perfect.

He reached over to grab a paper towel to dry his hands off as the Agent mumbled something quietly in response, turning to leave. Perfect.

Nikolas grabbed him from behind, putting a hand over his mouth to muffle any sound he could make. The scrawny Agent certainly was a fighter, though. He managed to get an elbow around and jab it into his ribs. But Nikolas didn't even falter. He was no stranger to pain.

He spun the Agent around, slamming him into the wall and pinning him there so he could slip the knife he was hiding out of his jacket pocket. There was a good amount of fear in the Agent's eyes. Nikolas chuckled. "I'm sorry to say… It's about to get just a bit rougher."

He felt the Agent's body contort as he shoved the knife into his abdomen, heard the noise of pain that was somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Just for extra measure, to make sure he'd done his job completely, he stabbed the Agent twice more. He released his hold and the Agent slid to the ground, slumped over, panting and gasping. Perfect.

Nikolas chuckled again. He was even able to clean himself up a bit. He washed the Agent's blood off of his hands and took off his jacket, which had blood staining the front. He folded it over so the blood was hidden on the inside and draped it over his arm, covering the blood that also stained his shirt. Perfect.

The Agent was still slumped in the same position, fighting for his breath as he tried to edge towards the door. Though he'd barely moved an inch. Nikolas let out another laugh. There was hardly a chance for the Agent. Perfect.

"My apologies, Agent," he said, before slipping out into the hall, careful not to let the door open enough for anyone to catch a glimpse of what was inside. He walked out of the station without trouble, waving to and thanking the officer who had 'helped' him. His car was waiting on the street, and he calmly got in and drove away.

Perfect. Just as he knew it would be.

Perfect.

* * *

"Hey, Morgan? Where's Reid?" Hotch asked tensely, stepping into the room.

"Oh, he went to splash some water on his face," Morgan said, before glancing over at the clock. His eyes widened and he hopped up. "Almost ten minutes ago!" He pushed past Hotch and ran down the hall towards the bathroom.

Morgan barged through the bathroom door, his eyes catching sight of the image that was reflected in the mirror he faced. A red stain on the white tiled wall, leading down and out of the mirror's range. He was almost afraid to turn around and look, but he did. And he saw exactly what he was terrified he would.

Reid. And blood. A lot of it.

"Reid!" he shouted, Hotch just catching up and pushing the door open. "Call a bus! Now!"

"Someone call a bus!" Hotch shouted out into the station.

"Reid, man, come on, stay with me," Morgan said, trying to stop the bleeding and keep him awake at the same time. His eyes were closed, but they flickered open as Morgan tapped on his cheek. "Come on, Spencer. Wake up."

Morgan could hear that the police station was suddenly thrown into complete chaos. There were several people jostling at the door, trying to see inside, but Hotch was blocking the way and keeping an eye out for the paramedics. Who were already close, according to the sirens. Morgan vaguely remembered that the firehouse, where the ambulances were kept, was just down the street.

He saw that Reid was trying to say something, his lips barely moving. "The guy," Reid managed to whisper quietly, gasping. "Wearing… a disguise. Grey wig… jacket…"

"Okay, okay. Shh. Talking is taking your energy, just wait, you can tell me later," Morgan said.

"But… if I don't…" Reid said, looking at him through heavily lidded eyes.

"You will. Don't say that," Morgan said firmly. "You'll be alright. And don't worry, I will personally make sure we get this guy. You just need to hang on."

The paramedics came rushing in then, quickly putting him on a stretcher and rushing him out and into an ambulance. "I'll go with him!" JJ called, hopping in after them just before the door shut and the sirens started up again, the ambulance flying out of the parking lot.

Morgan sat back, going to put his head in his hands but stopping when he saw them covered in blood. Reid's blood. "Damn it," he said, his voice shaking from a terrible mixture of anger and fear. He stood up, fighting the urge to hit something.

"Here," Hotch said, handing him a handkerchief. Morgan grabbed it and furiously wiped at his hands, still failing to get all of the red off of them.

Morgan followed Hotch out of the bathroom, where most of the chaos had subsided and everyone was sitting in shocked silence. Most of them were staring at him wide eyed. He stared back at them all, before looking down at the white and now red stained cloth in his hands. He finally lost the fight to stop himself from attacking something, ripping the handkerchief in his hands and kicking out at the wall, making everyone who was watching him jump. If he hadn't gotten so distracted by the file he'd been rereading…

"Morgan," Hotch said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, spotting Rossi, whose usual calm and collected expression was gone, replaced by a definitely shaken one. Prentiss off to the side as well, leaning against the wall and taking shaky breaths. And Hotch… Hotch was looking just about as upset as he was feeling himself.

"We need to catch this guy," Morgan announced loudly. "He's going down."

He shrugged off Hotch's hand, striding quickly into their room, vaguely hearing the others follow.

Morgan knew one thing for certain. If he met this guy, there were no guarantees that he would come out of it alive.

* * *

**I know. I'm cruel, aren't I? Be sure to tell me in a review! Pretty please! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry this is a day late guys! But I really hope you all like it!**

* * *

Nikolas parked and ran up the stairs into Pazel's building, grinning. None of the other murders he'd committed had given him this much… pleasure. And there were a lot of them.

He'd shot people, poisoned them, watched their lives leave them again and again. But this time. This time he'd seen the pain in the Agent's face, felt his body crumple under the wound's he'd inflicted, been right up close. He'd always gone for less… messy ways of killing. But oh, what a fool he'd been. This was was much better. By far.

He'd taken off the wig and the fake facial hair before he'd left his car, making sure that Pazel would recognize him. Now more than ever, it was imperative that he kept his trust. Since he was just beginning to have so much fun. And he was so eager to test out his new methods again.

Nikolas rapped on the door and they went through the usual process. He was having more trouble than usual hiding his growing impatience as the locks scraped open.

Finally, he was able to step inside and follow Pazel to his seat.

"Have you really completed the mission already? In hardly twenty four hours?"

"Of course. In fact, I'm just coming from doing so now," Nikolas responded. He hadn't changed his clothes yet, so he moved the jacket off of his arm, unfolding it to display the red stained patches.

"Fantastic," Pazel said, getting up and cautiously walking up to him. He reached out and touched the bloodspot, taking a deep breath. "It's still damp."

"Yes," Nikolas said proudly. "The amount of blood the target lost was admittedly quite large."

"Wonderful," Pazel whispered, taking the jacket from him. "I shall need to keep this."

Nikolas felt a stab of annoyance, but allowed it. After all, jackets were replaceable. "Of course. Do you have my next target?"

Pazel didn't reply for several seconds, and Nikolas's impatience grew. He was almost on the verge of asking again, when Pazel finally tore his attention away from the jacket long enough to hand him his next newspaper clipping. Nikolas quickly excused himself, pausing before he walked out the door to remove his tie and blood stained shirt. It was almost dark outside, but he couldn't risk being seen with blood stains all over himself.

He forced himself to stand calmly outside Pazel's door until the locks were redone, waiting until he was back in his car to even look at the article. Of course, it didn't really matter who it was. As long as he got to kill them.

* * *

Focus. He needed to focus. He had to find the next victim before they were attacked… just like Reid had been.

Morgan shook his head and again attempting to focus on the paper in his hands. But his anger… and okay, yes, fear distracted him.

Reid had been rushed straight into emergency surgery. He'd technically died for a few minutes in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, needing to be revived. Which made the second time in his life that he'd actually been… dead. And now, they were just waiting for him to wake up.

JJ was still at the hospital, and she called with updates as soon as she got them. But it had been hours since he'd talked to her last, and looking at the clock, Morgan realized it was nearly seven in the morning. He'd been up all night, and yet he was hardly tired. He was too angry. And flashes of the picture of Reid, slumped against the wall and deathly pale kept invading his mind.

His thoughts involuntarily floated to the conversation he'd had with Garcia after everything had happened the day before. He'd called her not soon after it all went down, knowing that she'd want to be kept in the loop. Even if it was something she didn't want to hear.

"_What can I do for you, hot stuff?"_

"_Penelope," he said flatly, and he could practically see her face slide from its usual grin to one of horror._

"_No. Why are you calling me by my first name, why do you sound like that? What happened? Is my genius okay?" she'd asked, her voice shaking and terrified._

"_He's in surgery right now. It's serious, they're doing the best they can, but they don't know how everything will end up," he said hollowly. He heard her gasp and start choking back tears._

"_You… you go catch that scumbag," she said immediately, her voice now strangled. "And you keep me updated about how he's doing."_

"_Of course I will," he said, in response to both._

_Just before he hung up, he heard a muffled sob on the other end._

Morgan attempted to focus again. He managed to keep his attention on the paper long enough to find another possible victim, adding the name to the list of seven others. He'd picked out anyone that was in the paper for doing something for the community, which seemed like the only common theme between the previous victims.

"Morgan," Hotch said, walking in a few seconds later. "You're here early."

"I never left," Morgan replied, half hidden behind another paper.

"You never left?" Hotch asked, raising his eyebrows. "Morgan, you need to-"

"I'm well aware of what I need to do, Hotch. I need to catch this guy and stop him from hurting anyone else," Morgan responded firmly. "I wouldn't have slept anyway, so I might as well put the time to good use."

Hotch looked like he wanted to say something else about how Morgan should have gone back to the hotel and gotten some rest, but sighed and instead said, "What have you been doing?"

"I'm compiling a list of possible victims. I've found eight so far. As soon as eight o'clock rolls around I'm going to call each of them and tell them to let us know if they get any flowers."

"Good idea, but do you think it's worth it?" Hotch said. "Trying to find the one person who will be attacked next out of everyone in the papers?"

"I had to do something, Hotch. And it's worth a shot."

"Alright. Let me know if anything pans out."

Morgan nodded once and buried his nose back into the paper.

But four hours later, he sat glaring at his phone, which was sitting on the table in front of him. There was nothing left to do. No more leads to follow. He'd gone through all of the papers he could get his hands on. Twice. He'd called every person on the list, a total of thirteen individuals, telling them to contact him immediately if they got any roses.

Reid had already cracked the pattern the guy had followed, and he'd figured out where the guy would go next if for some reason he stopped killing in Maryland.

Prentiss and Hotch sat at the table, both looking through the files for some detail they'd missed, something to do. Rossi was over by the board, leaning against the wall and studying the information posted on it.

Morgan sat at the table, arms crossed tightly. He couldn't believe the situation they were in. It infuriated him. The sound of a ringing phone suddenly shot through the room, and Morgan scrambled to pick his up off the table. But he threw it down in disgust when he realized it wasn't his that had gone off.

Instead Hotch reached into his pocket and produced his own. "JJ. Any news?" he asked, gaining everyone's attention. They all sat staring at him as he listened to what JJ was saying on the other end. "That's great. Thanks for letting us know."

As soon as he hung up, Prentiss asked, "What's great?"

"He's awake," Hotch said. "And the doctors think he'll make a full recovery."

"Oh, thank god," Prentiss said. Morgan felt a little smile break out onto his face for the first time since the day before.

He quickly called Garcia, who started crying again, but this time from relief. She gave him strict orders to keep her informed before she hung up.

"Typical Garcia," Rossi said as Morgan told them what she'd said, his voice sounding much less gruff than it had in the past day.

Morgan went to put his phone back down on the table, but before he'd even removed his hand from it, it went off. He froze for a few seconds, staring at it and hoping it would be the break in the case they needed.

"Morgan," he said tersely, answering it. The others were now watching him carefully.

"Agent Morgan? Um, you told me I was supposed to call you if I got a flower? A red rose with a note apologizing for something?"

"Yes! Yes I did," Morgan said quickly, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. "You're Tess, right? Can you tell me your address?"

"Seven thirteen Bradley Road," she said. "Am I in danger?"

"No. I will personally make sure that you aren't," Morgan responded. "We're on our way now."

"Okay," she said, sounding frightened.

"Don't worry. You'll be alright," Morgan assured her, before hanging up. He looked at the others. "Tess Richards, seventeen. She was recently in the papers for doing volunteer work at an animal shelter. She's his next target. She just got a rose."

"Your idea panned out. Nice work," Hotch said quickly.

Morgan nodded as he stood up.

It was way past time to catch this guy.

* * *

**Let me know what you thought! Reviews are appreciated! :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**I apologize, as this is a bit late. I'll attempt to get the rest up on the 'chapter every three days' schedule. Hope you all like it!**

* * *

All four of them piled into two different SUV's, Hotch and Rossi in one, Morgan and Prentiss in another. They headed off in separate directions, Morgan and Prentiss to the hospital to stop in and see Reid and possibly pick up JJ, and Hotch and Rossi towards the next victim's house.

Morgan took a hard left where Hotch kept going straight, and kept winding the path towards the hospital, perhaps driving a bit more reckless than was wise. Prentiss was holding onto the seat rather tightly, and when they got out to stride into the building, she breathed a sigh of relief.

They met JJ at the doors to the ICU. She'd come out to meet them and show them the way to Reid's room. "Hey," she said softly, offering them a weak smile.

"How is he?"

"He's been sleeping on and off since he woke up. He's got some pretty heavy meds in his system though, so he's a bit out of it."

"Can we talk to him?" Morgan asked, peering down the hall as if he could tell which room belonged to Reid just by looking at the door.

"For a few minutes, if he's awake. The doctor said not to do anything that would stress him out or get his heart rate up too much," JJ said, rubbing her arm.

"Of course," Prentiss said, Morgan nodding.

"Alright. Follow me," JJ said, taking off down the hall with the others in two. "He still looks pretty pale and weak too, so don't be put off."

They all took deep breaths, but it still didn't prepare them for what was sitting on the other side.

Reid was laying in the hospital bed, which was propped up at a strange angle. His eyes were closed and he was still extremely pale. There were several tubes connecting to the IV's that were in the back of his hand. Morgan was forcibly reminded of the day before, when he'd walked into the bathroom and found him slumped on the floor. But he willed the image away, stepping closer to the bed after JJ.

"Spence," she said softly, touching his arm. His eyes fluttered open. "Spence. Derek and Emily are here."

Reid looked around for a few seconds bleary eyed, before he spotted them standing awkwardly at the foot of his bed. "Hey, kid," Morgan said, tapping his foot lightly.

"Hey," Reid said back. His voice was barely more than a whisper, raspy and broken sounding.

"They just took the breathing tube out an hour ago," JJ said. "It's normal for his voice to be like that."

"Could I get some water?" Reid asked meekly, looking to the side table where they could see a plastic mug, marked with milliliters along the side. It was almost empty, though, and JJ excused herself to get more.

Prentiss moved and sat down on the chair that was pushed up next to the bed, grabbing Reid's hand and smiling. "How are you?" she asked lamely, attempting to send him a warm smile.

"Well, for having been stabbed three times and come out of emergency surgery a few hours ago… I'm just peachy," Reid said.

"You're making jokes," Prentiss said, laughing. "Are you sure they didn't tinker with your brain while they were in there?"

Reid smiled weakly, before grimacing and attempting to shift around. "Listen, Reid," Morgan said, stepping closer. "I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Morgan, stop. It's not your fault. I told you to stay. You weren't anywhere around when the guy came in."

"But Reid, I-"

"No. Don't you go feeling guilty or responsible," Reid said as firmly as he could manage with his voice weak and breaking.

JJ came back in then, and Reid looked like he was done with talking about that subject as he took the mug back from her. He took a sip, looking like the cool water soothed his throat immensely.

"Okay," Morgan said. He didn't really want to ask the next questions, but he knew he had to. "So, you said that the guy was wearing a wig?"

"Yeah, he was. It slipped a little as he attacked me. And the facial hair was probably false, too. I wouldn't even put it past him to have been wearing coloured contacts, either," Reid answered.

"Do you think you're up to telling us what happened?" Prentiss asked softly.

"It's best to do it as soon as possible," Reid said, nodding. "Might as well get it over with."

"Are you sure?" JJ asked. Reid nodded again.

"Alright. What happened when you walked into the bathroom?" Morgan asked.

"I, uh… I just went to splash water on my face, which I did. I stood at the sink for a minute before he walked in. He was wearing a light coloured jacket and jeans, he had a greying hair, a mustache. He said 'Howdy' as he walked up to the sink, which sort of put me on guard. And he told me I looked a little bit sickly. Then he started washing his hands," Reid said. He swallowed, taking another drink of water and pausing for a few seconds.

"Take it easy, remember," JJ said. "You don't want to get your heart rate up."

"I know. I'm alright," Reid said, before continuing. "I said something about how I was having a rough day, and he said he was sorry to hear it. I realized too late who he was, and when I turned to leave, he grabbed me from behind. He said, 'I'm sorry to say, it's about to get just a bit rougher'. Then he attacked me. And then, uh… he washed his hands off in the sink. Made sure the bloodspots on his clothes were covered. And then he said, 'My apologies, Agent'. And then he left."

Reid took another sip of water and fell silent. The sickening thought crossed Morgan's mind that Reid must remember every detail of what happened. "Alright. Thanks," he said.

Reid nodded, looking a bit like he might have been swallowing back a lump in his throat.

"So, do you have any new leads?" JJ asked.

"Yes, actually. We do. We're on our way to hopefully catch the guy now. You could come, if you want," Prentiss said, standing up.

JJ looked over to Reid, who immediately said, "It's fine, JJ. You can go. And make sure you catch him for me."

"Definitely," JJ said. "I'll let you know how it goes, Spence."

"Thanks. Good luck," Reid said, starting to look a bit tired. JJ leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, telling him to get some rest. He agreed, and she followed Morgan and Prentiss out into the hall and to the car, all of them eager to get moving.

* * *

Hotch pulled the SUV over a few houses down from their destination, putting it in park and placing the keys in his pocket. They didn't want to park right in front, if 'The Gentleman' was watching the house. That could tip him off and spook him.

"Do you think we'll catch this guy?" Rossi asked, unbuckling his seat-belt and looking ahead at the seemingly calm home they were about to walk to.

"We have to, Dave," Hotch replied, glancing over at him. "This guy is dangerous. And he's either escalating or deteriorating. Quickly. He's killed thirty five people. And almost Reid. If he's dangerous enough to get inside a police station and attack an FBI Agent, and then get back out completely undetected…"

"Not to mention, it's personal now," Rossi added.

"That too." They shared a quick look before they got out of the car and started walking towards the home. "We've never had such a good opportunity to catch him. We've never had any warning of where he's going to strike before. And we may not again. We need to get him."

"I'm sure we will," Rossi said. "Every one of us wants to get this guy. We all have the motivation. And this team is the most capable I've ever seen."

He also knew for a fact that Hotch would be feeling personally responsible for Reid. He was the team leader, he was supposed to keep track of his Agents and keep them safe. Or some other nonsense idea like that.

Hotch nodded once and they started up the walkway to the front door. But they froze in their tracks when they noticed that it was standing wide open.

* * *

**Reviews are great things. So leave one, yes? Please? :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**Ooh, okay! Sorry it's a bit late, as usual, ha. But hope you do like it! Things are getting interesting!**

* * *

An excited laugh escaped his lips. It just made the girl cry harder. A sweet young thing. Pretty, too. About seventeen. She'd been in the paper for doing loads of volunteer work. He still had her picture in his pocket. She looked a bit different now, though. She didn't have the big grin on her face, the proud expression. Her hair and makeup weren't perfect. Instead, there were tears streaming down her cheeks, fear clearly shown on her face.

He preferred her this way.

Her mother wasn't bad looking, either, to be honest. He could have fun with her too. Although, he wasn't quite sure what kind of fun yet, really.

He'd never done this before. He hadn't ever shown up before the six hour mark, done anything except the quick and easy murder. But who knew? Depending on what came of this little… experiment, he might have a new routine.

"Well, I suppose I ought to introduce myself, hadn't I? Where are my manners," Nikolas said. "I'm The Gentleman."

"You're no gentleman," the mother spat at him. "No gentleman would do what you're doing."

"Ah, dear lady," he said, brushing her hair out of her face with the tip of his knife. "I'm not a gentleman. I'm The Gentleman. That's what I'm known as. At least, to the FBI."

He's moved a bit carelessly, letting the tip of his knife leave a thin red line along her scalp. She barely twitched, though. He almost laughed again. She was trying to stay calm and strong for her daughter. How… touching.

"Why are you doing this?" the girl said through her somewhat pitiful sobs.

"Because I'm being paid to, my dear. I've been hired to kill you."

"Hired to kill… But who the hell would want to kill Tess?" the mother asked, looking stunned.

"Oh, that's none of your concern. Nothing personal, I can assure you. Though I do hope that you've realized by now that I'll have to kill you too." He felt a sense of pride as fear crossed her features for a moment.

This was better. Much better. Instead of watching from afar, he got to see the moments of fear that he otherwise would have missed. And the pain… he wanted to see the pain again. Here, stuck in the basement of these peoples home… he'd be able to see it as much as he wanted.

Nikolas crossed the room to where Tess sat. He brandished the knife in front of her. Fear. As he moved to draw blood from her shoulder, she sobbed, "No! Please don't! Please!" That was new, too. Begging. He laughed as he ran the knife over her skin. She sobbed louder than ever.

A few more minutes passed, and they were both bleeding freely. Why had he never done this before? He'd killed so many, yet he'd never really taken the time to enjoy it.

A sudden noise overhead made him freeze. Footsteps. "Shh!" he whispered, quickly walking back over to where Tess was sitting and putting the knife next to her throat. She gasped and fell silent, tears continuing to roll down her cheeks.

The footsteps started to cautiously walk down the stairs. He could see Tess's mother looking at the stranger with wide eyes. After a second, she nodded, communicating something to them. He held the knife closer to Tess's throat as a warning, and she looked down to her knees.

Then came the sound that changed everything. A quiet voice crackling through a sort of walkie talkie. "Clear."

His eyes widened and a grin spread across his face. "Come, why don't you join us?" he called out. The footsteps started down the stairs again. A police officer? No, the vest of the man who stepped down and pointed a gun at him said differently. FBI.

"Agent Hotchner. How nice to meet you! I'm sorry I couldn't stop to introduce myself last time. I was a bit… preoccupied," he said, grinning. The Agent barely faltered. "I suggest you drop that gun you're holding, or else this girl is going to die. And don't forget your second weapon, either. A big-shot Agent like you is bound to carry one."

He grinned as the Agent slowly did as he was told. This was almost too easy.

* * *

Rossi checked the bedrooms upstairs, figuring that there was no one there. He announced it through the walkie talkie he carried and waited for a response from Hotch, stepping back into what was obviously the girl's room.

It was colourful and tidy, several pictures on the walls showing her with friends, and what could be a boyfriend. But the most conspicuous thing about the room was the desk chair, which was tipped on its side. A laptop stood open on the desk, the screen black. He touched the mouse pad gently with one of his knuckles and the computer sprang back into life, displaying a Facebook page. There was a chat open in the corner (he only knew what it was called because of Garcia), the last messages being from a girl called Lucy.

_Hello? Where'd u go?_

They were dated about a half hour ago. If he had to take a guess… had the UnSub changed his mind and come earlier than he ever had? The thought occurred to him that he still hadn't heard Hotch clear the basement. Rossi slowly raised his gun back up and crept back towards the basement door, peering down the stairs.

He was halfway down when he saw the woman, bound to the chair and bleeding.

"Agent Rossi," said a silky voice. "We've been waiting for you."

Rossi froze for a moment, before taking one more step. He slowly moved to look over the railing and spotted Hotch, who was also sitting, bound to a chair. His heart sank.

"I suggest you don't try anything, Agent Rossi. Or else the knife over this girl's throat might just slip."

For a few seconds he debated what he could do, but nothing came to mind. This guy was good, and extremely dangerous. How else could he have gotten Hotch? He wouldn't hesitate to kill Tess, Rossi was sure. And her mother, sitting right there…

"Alright," Rossi said, holding up his gun and walking down the rest of the stairs. He set it down on the floor and kept his hands up. It bothered him that he was left unprotected, but what choice did he have?

"Good decision, Agent Rossi," the UnSub said, smiling eerily at him, knife pressed to the young girl's throat just like he'd said. There were several cuts on her, similar to her mother. "Now, why don't you kick that gun over towards me?"

Rossi grudgingly slid it towards him, and he picked it up, setting it on a table to what he identified as Hotch's weapon. Both of them. "So. You're the infamous Gentleman, then," Rossi said, hands still up.

"See? I told you, ladies. That's how the FBI knows me," the UnSub said, looking back and forth between them, grinning. "Now, Agent Rossi. Over by the wall next to your dear team leader. And I don't think you should try anything like he did, or you might end up in a similar situation."

Rossi noticed for the first time the gash on Hotch's forehead, and the thin trickle of blood running down his temple.

"Oh, so you know how to fight, then," Rossi remarked.

"Of course I do. I'm not daft," the UnSub said smugly. "Are there any more of you coming?" He was greeted by silence. "That surely means yes? Of course, they wouldn't send just two Agents for me."

Rossi went to sit by Hotch, whispering a quick, "You alright?" Hotch nodded once in response, before the UnSub walked over and quickly bound Rossi to his chair as well. He had to fight every instinct in his body to not reach out and punch him in the face.

"I'll be back in a minute," the UnSub said. "I've got a few things I need to prepare. After all, an entire FBI team is going to be here. Well… almost," he said with a nasty grin, disappearing up the stairs.

"Are you two alright?" Rossi asked quickly, looking to the two women. They both nodded, Tess sniffling.

"They're all shallow wounds," Tess's mother said. "Listen, what is going on here? He said he was hired to kill my daughter?"

"He's a hit man," Hotch said. "One who is recently becoming more violent. We believe he was hired by a schizophrenic or otherwise mentally disturbed person."

"Oh, oh god," she said, for the first time letting a sob escape. "Why her specifically?"

"She was in the newspaper. That's how he picks his victims," Rossi answered. He turned to Hotch and said, "I saw he took your backup piece."

"Yeah. And he is good, Dave. Fast."

"I knew he had to be, to get the jump on you. I can assume you've been working on getting your bonds loose?"

"He's good at that too."

Rossi swore under his breath. "So do we wait for Morgan, Prentiss and JJ? And hope they can get him?"

"That's unlikely, though," Hotch said quietly, trying not to let the women hear. "He's just going to pull the exact same thing on them that he did on us. Threaten a life if they don't cooperate."

"This isn't a good situation."

"No, it isn't."

* * *

Morgan pulled the SUV up behind the other one, parking a few houses down. "You ready to catch this guy?" Prentiss asked.

"Way past ready. More like determined," JJ said. Morgan nodded as he got out of the vehicle, beginning to walk up to the home and leaving the two female Agents behind. "Yeah. And so is he."

They shared a look, before hurrying to catch up with him, only accomplishing it when he was knocking on the door. After a few seconds, it opened to show Hotch standing there.

"Hey, Hotch. So what…" Morgan started, before he noticed the dried blood on his boss's forehead. "What's going on?"

Suddenly, a man just a few inches shorter than Hotch stepped out from behind him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. The gun he held tightly to Hotch's back was clearly visible. The three Agents on the doorstep all moved to grab their own weapons, but the man said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Unless you want your leader to get a bullet in his spine."

"Just put the gun down," Morgan said slowly, moving his hands away from his belt.

The man, presumably the UnSub, started laughing. "That would be no fun, would it? Why don't you come in and join us. Just make sure to drop your weapons and phones in that bush there before you walk in."

None of them moved until the UnSub tightened his hold on Hotch and pressed the gun farther into his back, making him wince. Then they filed in slowly, each showing the man their guns and phones before they dropped into the bush.

"Excellent. Now, go down the hall and take a right down the stairs to the basement. That's where the fun is," the UnSub instructed. "And don't try anything."

* * *

**Reviews are always appreciated, if you'd please!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, chapter twelve! Hope I did it justice!**

* * *

"Isn't this great? I came intending to kill two people. And now," he said, laughing, "I get to kill seven! And on the day I decide I want to experiment, as well. Fantastic!"

He was now standing in the middle of the room, the seven other occupants placed in a circle around him, arms bound behind their backs. Tess was still crying, her eyes red from doing so for so long.

"You know you won't get away with this," Prentiss said. "An entire FBI team. Even if you're as good as you seem to think you are, there's no way you can manage it."

"Oh, but see… if I'm as good as I think I am- which I am, by the way- then killing all seven of you will be no problem. And as an added bonus, a great source of entertainment as well!"

All of the Agents were adamantly glaring back at them, and Tess's mother was attempting to do so as well, though her poorly disguised panic was visible.

"There are people who know we came here. If we don't show back up, someone will come looking."

"Oh, no need to worry. I'll be long gone by then," the UnSub said.

"Like hell you will," Morgan muttered, staring him down.

"Oh, yes. I will," he said, walking over and twirling the knife between his fingers. "I don't see how it would be possible that you'd stop me. Big, brave, tough Agent Morgan. Unable to do anything. Must be torture for you. Agent Hotchner too. Team Leader, and he can't even protect his own team. Terrible," he taunted walking over towards JJ. "Especially if I did this."

She kicked out at him, managing to land a solid kick to his left leg before he could touch her. "Back off, psycho," she said firmly.

He'd barely flinched when she kicked him. "You probably shouldn't have done that," he said quietly, staring at her, the grin off of his face now. He slashed out at her, striking her in the shoulder with his knife and causing her to cry out.

"Leave her alone!" Morgan shouted, straining against his bonds.

"See? I was right. Torture to watch, isn't it?" the UnSub said. "But brilliant fun on my end."

"Morgan," Hotch said, trying to calm him down. Though it didn't do much use.

"Listen to your ever stoic Team Leader, Derek. He looks like it hasn't bothered him, but it's tearing him up inside, isn't it Aaron?" he said, switching his attention. The grin was slowly starting to reappear. "The Team Leader. Led his entire team into this dangerous situation. What kind of leader does that?"

"Don't listen to him, Hotch," Rossi said. "You know he's just a crackpot."

"Oh, a crackpot, am I? If I'm just a crackpot, then how come you can't stop me? And why is the one Agent you're missing dead because of me? Aaron? Derek? You were both there, sitting around. You could have stopped me."

"He's not dead," Prentiss said coolly. "You failed to kill him."

They could see his smug expression slip for a second, but his grin soon returned. "Oh, well. Doctor Reid is a fighter, then. No matter. I'll just have to pay him another visit once I'm done here."

"Good luck with that," JJ said fiercely. He turned to look at her, amused.

"And how are _you_ planning to stop me?" he asked, letting out an amused laugh. "You don't look like you're in much of a position to either."

He moved towards her again, but as soon as he was standing in front of her she jumped out of her chair and knocked the knife out of his hand, kicking his legs out from under him.

"Really? Don't I?" she asked. He got back up and scrambled towards the knife she'd knocked away, but it had come to a halt right next to Rossi, who put his foot down on it.

"I don't think so," Rossi said.

"Fine. I could take her anyway," the UnSub said, standing up straight and fixing his shirt.

"I'd put my money on JJ," Hotch said. JJ smiled as she raised her fists.

The UnSub suddenly looked much less smug than he had. The cool and collected man who had stood before them only moments before was replaced by a man who was a second from flying into a rage. He let out a sort of strangled scream as he ran at JJ, who deftly avoided his swinging fist and took her own swing, which landed on his jaw. He came back and started swinging at her like mad, but she blocked them all, until he managed to hit a heavy blow to her stomach that left her breathless. That moment was all he needed to kick her so that she fell and hit the concrete.

He attempted to kick her hard in the ribs, but she rolled out of the way and he kicked out at empty air, nearly overbalancing and tipping over himself. Though he managed to right himself and was back to furiously running at her as soon as she was back on her feet. She leapt out of the way again and he was unable to stop himself from crashing into the pile of boxes that was stacked against the wall, knocking several over. He bounced right back again, however, like he was intolerable to pain.

She reared back and roundhouse kicked him, which sent him spinning to the floor again. It took him longer to get up this time, and Morgan caught her eye, using his foot to pull up the ankle on his pants leg. Where he still had a backup weapon in his ankle holster. She sprinted over and pulled it out, spinning around to see him standing again.

It looked like her kick had done his nose some serious damage, as it was bleeding fiercely and dripping onto the floor. "Are you going to shoot me, Agent Jareau? Do you have it in you?"

"Don't test me," she said dangerously.

He grinned. "Are you going to get revenge for your dear, sweet Doctor Reid, who only has a few hours more to live than any of you? Or did you take that cut to the shoulder personally? There's a lot more in your future, you know."

"You _really _don't want to test me," JJ said, her eyes narrowed.

"Am I making you mad, Agent? Are you going to kill me? Go right ahead, I dare you. Unless you don't have the guts," he taunted.

"You don't know what I've got," she said.

"Yes, I do, actually. I've studied all of you. Stoic Aaron Hotchner. You've got a little boy at home. Jack. He's cute. Oh, but it really is a shame about poor Haley. Jack no longer has a mommy, does he Aaron? Imagine if he didn't have a daddy anymore as well."

Hotch sent him a glare that was cold enough to turn even Rossi's stomach, but the UnSub had already turned away.

"David Rossi, the senior profiler. Such a big shot, so smart, so rich. A big old mansion to live in. But very empty all by yourself, isn't it Dave?"

"Then Agent Morgan. Big and strong and brave. I wonder how brave you'd be if you watched all of your teammates die, hm? I'd have fun breaking you."

"JJ," Hotch said quietly, as it was clear she was starting to lose her cool.

"Then dear Agent Prentiss!" the UnSub said, practically shouting now. "You're a pretty thing. And your mother is an Ambassador. I wonder if I could pull off her murder. Most likely. I am an expert at these things, after all."

JJ tensed up and took a threatening step towards him. "JJ!" Hotch said warningly.

"Don't worry. As much as I want this guy dead, I know better than to actually kill him," she said, her voice level. "And I'll wait until he actually gives me cause to _have_ to shoot him."

"Oh, cause? Is that what you've been waiting for? And here I thought you were just a coward!" the UnSub shouted. "So tell me, Agent Jareau, what would cause be? If I went to attack any of these precious people here? If I came at you again? Why don't you just get this over with? Kill me! So you can get back to your little boy. Adorable Henry. The Godson of dear Doctor Reid, isn't he?"

The UnSub said all that, walking over towards Tess and stroking her hair, making her let out a small whimper. He suddenly produced a switchblade from his pocket, but he didn't have much time to do anything with it before there was a loud bang and he was holding a bleeding shoulder.

"Oh, look at that. You aren't a coward after all," he said through gritted teeth. Tess was looking like she was ready to throw up as his blood dripped onto her from his position, leaning heavily on the chair she was seated in. He reached for Tess again, and another loud bang went off, this time hitting him in the leg and taking him down.

JJ walked over and quickly attempted to handcuff him, though he still fought her. That was, until she stepped on the wound in his leg. "Still think I'm not much of a threat?" JJ spat at him, tightening the cuffs as tight as she could. "You had best learn not to underestimate me."

She stopped and looked at him for a second, sitting on the floor and breathing heavily. She landed one last solid punch to his eye, sending his head snapping back. "That was for Reid. And my shoulder. And everyone else you've hurt."

He laughed, wheezing slightly. "You certainly aren't a coward, are you?"

JJ shoved him against the wall and walked over to Tess. She quickly untied her, and the girl jumped out of her chair, sobbing, her thank yous barely audible. JJ soothed as best as she could, prying the girl off of her long enough to free her mother.

As soon as the two were free and reunited, she moved over to untie Hotch, who had been sitting to the mother's right. "Good work," he told her quickly as his bindings fell away and he moved to untie someone as well.

JJ found herself face to face with Morgan, who was grinning at her. "Nice job, Blondie," he said, casting a look to where Nikolas was sitting against the wall, fruitlessly trying to get up. "How'd you get free?"

"Simple. He underestimated me," JJ said, stepping over to Prentiss. "He didn't tie my bonds that tight. Didn't expect too much from me, I guess."

"He was far from right about that," Morgan said. "But still, it was a good thing I kept my backup piece hidden."

Soon enough, they were all free and marching up the stairs, Morgan roughly leading the UnSub. JJ stayed with the two understandably distraught women, comforting them. As soon as they made it outside, they saw that several police cars and emergency vehicles had pulled up already.

"How is…?" Prentiss asked, looking around and voicing the question they all had.

"Your tech analyst," Detective Skinner said, walking over to them and looking relieved. "After what happened with Agent Reid-"

"Doctor Reid," Hotch corrected.

"Right. After what happened with Doctor Reid, she was worried about you all. She tried your phones and couldn't get ahold of any of you."

"Should've known," JJ said, smiling.

"Well, look at that, mister Gentleman. Looks like you were destined to fail at this mission either way," Morgan said, leading him towards a paramedic who was waiting to patch him up enough so that they could take him back to the station.

Hotch and JJ both walked over towards the other ambulance that was parked on the lawn, both being hurried inside. Hotch got a quick bandage on his forehead, but JJ took a while longer, her injuries more extensive. "How are you?" he asked her as he was finished.

"Fine," she answered, smiling.

"That cut on your shoulder doesn't look too deep. I don't think it requires stitches," the paramedic said. "I'll just clean it and put a bandage over it, and you should be fine, aside from a few bruises."

"Thanks," JJ said as the paramedic worked silently. As soon as he was done, she hopped down to stand by Hotch.

"You did very well down there," he said, sending her an approving look.

"I thought I handled myself alright," she said. They watched as the UnSub was shoved into a police car.

"You know, this isn't over yet," Hotch stated. He spared a sideways glance at JJ and the others and they all walked up. "We still have to find out who he was working for. And catch him."

"I know," JJ said grimly. They shared a collective glance, before they all got back into their vehicles and rode back to the station, their main objective now questioning the man who was attempting to bash his head against the window of the police car hard enough to break it.

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**So, thoughts? Pretty please leave a review, I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen! Hope you guys are still liking the story!**

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Morgan and Rossi stood shoulder to shoulder, staring into the interrogation room. The UnSub sat, handcuffed to the table, an officer behind him. He sat peacefully, at least for the moment, though he did keep sporadically flying into fits of rage.

"That is one messed up dude," Prentiss said as she walked over, looking through the glass with them.

"Of course he is. How could anyone sane do anything like what he's done?" Rossi said. She cocked her head to the side as if to say 'good point'.

Prentiss looked over to JJ, who was sitting at the table in their back room. She was on the phone, filling Reid in on the brief hostage situation they'd encountered. She could tell that JJ was trying to keep him calm, she was moving her hand in a soothing manner even though he wasn't around to see it.

Prentiss could feel her anger rising up. If it hadn't been for the man sitting before them, whistling to himself, Reid would be standing there and able to see JJ's hand motions, and she wouldn't grimace when she moved her arm in the wrong way and it agitated the gash on her shoulder. Not to mention there would be thirty five people still walking around, and two women wouldn't be traumatized.

As of right now, they knew nothing about him. Not his real name, or his age. All they knew was that he was called 'The Gentleman', he was a pretty average looking guy, and he was most definitely a psychopath.

"So, how are we going to crack him?" Prentiss asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"I think our best change to get it out of him who he was working for is if he flies into a rage again," Hotch said, walking up to them. "He's much more apt to letting something slip. Otherwise, he wouldn't outright tell us anything."

"True. And we need to find out as much as we can. This doesn't just involve this town," Rossi said. "There are thirty one other murders that need to be accounted for."

"In thirty one different states," Morgan said, shaking his head. "Because this is the first time he's been hired by someone wacked out enough to have him kill more than once."

"Alright. Morgan and Prentiss, why don't you two go in? He's bound to react strongly to authority figures. Especially a woman," Hotch said, crossing his arms as he watched the two enter.

"Hello, Agents," the UnSub said cheerfully. "I'd shake your hands, but unfortunately, I'm a bid constricted at the moment."

Morgan remained stony face as he went to stand next to the mirror. Prentiss sat down across from him, setting a few files down on the table between them. The officer who had been watching him shifted slightly, but kept his arms behind his back and his tall posture. "Why don't we start with you telling us your name," Prentiss said coolly, making it clear that it wasn't a question.

"But surely you know who I am? I am called the Gentleman," he said calmly.

"Yeah, we got that part. We're asking for your real name," Morgan said.

"You Agents. You just want to suck the fun out of everything, don't you?"

"Your name. Now." Prentiss said.

The UnSub sighed. "Alright, alright. You won't find it of much help, though, I'm afraid. Your lovely technical analyst can run it through her fancy computer as many times and different ways as she wants. She won't find anything." He looked extremely smug, obviously taking pride in being totally off the grid. "My name," he said finally, in response to the harsh stares he received, "is Nikolas. N-I-K-O-L-A-S."

"Do you have a last name, Nikolas?" Prentiss asked.

"No," he said simply.

Outside, Hotch immediately picked up his phone, hitting the speed dial to Garcia. "Hotch?" she asked, foregoing her usual quirky answer. "How is everyone doing? All Derek told me was that there was a situation."

"We're all fine. JJ and I are a little banged up, but it's nothing serious," Hotch said, still keeping an ear on the conversation going on in front of him. "We just got a first name for our UnSub."

"Good. I'll take anything I can get. I'm going mad here without anything to do," she said quickly.

"His name, at least what he told us, is Nikolas," Hotch said. "He was even kind enough to spell it out for us. N-I-K-O-L-A-S. He mentioned that you wouldn't be able to find anything on him."

"Oh, no Sir. If there is anything out there, the smallest scrap of information, like what colour underwear he was wearing twelve years ago to the day, I promise you I will find it," she said firmly, making him smile a bit.

"Look for records in Wisconsin. That was his first documented kill, so it was probably close to where he grew up."

"I'm already on it, sir."

"Great. Thanks, Garcia," he said, hanging up and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. He rubbed his eyes for a second before crossing his arms again. This case was impacting everyone. Even Garcia sounded tired, stressed and worried, the opposite of what Garcia was. Then there was Reid, and JJ. They were hurt, and the rest of them were frustrated and tired from working such long hours and not making much headway. They had the killer in custody, so the murders would stop. But where was the closure for any of the victims? Unless they broke this Nikolas, the person who had hired him might just keep on killing themselves.

"Alright, Nikolas," Prentiss said, snapping his focus back on them. "We know about your lengthy rap sheet. All over the country."

"You killed thirty five people," Morgan stated angrily, walking over to stand at the table.

"Yes. Yes I did," Nikolas said, grinning proudly.

Rossi made a disgusted noise, shaking his head. "I've never seen anyone so proud of the fact that they'd killed before."

"This guy is a real whack job," JJ said, walking over to join them.

"How's Reid?" Hotch asked, turning to her.

"He's doing better. Asking when he can leave," JJ said. "He wants to be here with us."

Rossi chuckled. "When is he clear to leave?"

"A few days, give or take. It depends on how well he's doing."

"Hopefully this will all be over by then," Hotch said.

"I should hope so. He got so upset when I was telling him what happened that the nurse ran in and took the phone away from him. Twice," JJ said.

A sudden shout from the interrogation room caught their attention, and they turned to see Nikolas looking like he did before he flew into his last rage.

"No! It was me, don't you doubt that. How dare you suggest it wasn't!"

"I don't know if I believe that," Prentiss said casually. "You have no proof right now. You could just be talking big. How would I know?"

"What would make you believe it wasn't?" Nikolas snarled. "I'm telling you that I did it, you have to believe me."

"Then prove it," Prentiss said simply. "Prove you did it. Tell us who you killed, how and where. And who hired you."

"Unless, of course, you don't remember," Morgan said. "I bet he doesn't," he said, speaking to Prentiss over Nikolas's head. "He probably can't remember anything."

"Yes I do!" Nikolas shouted, pulling at the handcuffs that kept him sitting at the table.

"Then prove it," Prentiss repeated.

Nikolas looked furious, like he was thinking hard, trying to make up his mind.

"Now he can't even make a simple decision," Morgan said scathingly. "The more we see of this guy, the more I doubt he's actually competent."

"Shut up!" Nikolas screamed, attempting to stand up again. Morgan moved forward and put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

"Then just tell us," he said quietly.

"I'll… I'll tell you some of them," Nikolas said uncertainly.

"You will tell us all of them, otherwise we don't believe you."

Nikolas fell silent again, thinking and glaring over at them. "Incompetent," Morgan muttered.

"No!" Nikolas roared.

"It's all or nothing. You'd better pick fast," Prentiss said, starting to pick up the files like she was preparing to leave.

"Alright fine! Fine. I'll tell you," Nikolas snapped, looking furious.

"Brilliant," Rossi mumbled outside the room to the other two. "He's so proud that he couldn't stand not taking credit for what he'd done."

Nikolas talked for the next hour, starting with the first person he'd killed in Wisconsin, all the way up to the last person before he'd shown up in Maryland. He talked through them all in excruciating detail, making them all feel more and more uneasy as the smirk on his face grew larger and larger.

They managed to convince him to give up the names of those who had hired him, which kept Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Detective Skinner busy with calling the police stations of the cities where the murders had taken place. Nikolas had been like one giant lynch pin. He fell, and all over the country, so did thirty others.

Nikolas finally got to the murder of William Evans, the first Maryland murder, and Hotch and JJ, who were both off the phone at that point, watched anxiously as he spoke. He explained how he'd watched him and noticed his habits, seeing that every day when he got home, without fail, he'd poured himself a sizable amout of alcohol. So he'd snuck in, poisoned the bottle, and watched as the man came home and poured himself another drink.

"And who hired you to do that?" Prentiss asked.

"Patience, Agents. I'll get there," he said, grinning. He went on to explain how he'd hidden in an unused office across from the bar the officers had been in, waiting for Joey McAllen to come out and executing a perfect shot.

Then came Alicia Jensen. He'd snuck into her 'lab' and rigged up an explosion before she'd gotten home, then waited until her husband had checked on her before he snuck back in and stabbed her once so that she wouldn't escape, then set off the explosion.

Norman Jenkins was next. He's snuck in through the window and poisoned a glass of water his wife had been telling him to drink.

"And then," Nikolas said, obviously relishing the words, "came your friend. It was so remarkably easy to just put on a disguise and walk right into this station. Just finding a random officer to ask about some petty parking dispute. And then, to my delight, Spencer walked right into the bathroom. It couldn't have gone any more perfectly."

"Except for the fact that you failed that one," Morgan said. "He wasn't killed. And neither was Tess."

"No. But I did have a whole hell of a lot of fun," Nikolas said.

"Tell us who you were working for now," Prentiss said flatly.

"You seem so eager to end this nice chat we've been having. Why is that?"

JJ shook her head. "It's amazing how quickly this guy goes from being in a rage to taunting us." Hotch nodded in agreement, not taking his eyes off of him.

"Just tell us who you were working for," Morgan said, slamming his hands down on the table.

"Oh, alright. His name is Pazel. He lives in the apartment building on Hope street. Third floor. You might want to be careful with him, though. He's got a couple of screws loose in his head."

Morgan and Prentiss immediately gathered up all the papers they'd been taking notes on, hastily moving towards the door.

"You're not even going to say goodbye, Agents? How rude of you," Nikolas said scoldingly.

Morgan stopped and looked back, saying, "Good riddance."

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**So guys? Pretty please leave a review? Thanks to those who do!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Oh man! I ran straight to my computer when I realized how late this chapter was, guys! So sorry! But I hope you like it just the same!**

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"Hotch?"

"Garcia. I need you to look someone up. We got the name of the guy who hired Nikolas."

"Okay, go. I'm ready."

"His name is Pazel. No last name. But we believe he's probably a schizophrenic. You can try looking in mental hospitals in a couple hour radius from here. Probably a history of violence. And he owns an apartment on Hope Street."

"Alright. While I set up the searches I can tell you what I've found about your friend Nikolas. He was born in a small town in Northern Wisconsin by the name of Nikolas Mills, a seemingly normal kid. A few teenage delinquency issues, but nothing major. The farthest record I have for him is a high school diploma, and that's where his trail runs cold. That's basically it. Nothing outstanding."

"Okay," Hotch said slowly, writing it all down and handing the note to Rossi.

There were a few moments where all Hotch could hear was the clicking of keys and Garcia mumbling under her breath. He was just about to suggest that she call back if she found something when she shrieked, "Aha! I've found him!"

Hotch set his phone on speaker and set it down on the table.

"Okay, he was a tricky guy to find, which is odd considering how uncommon the name Pazel is. I looked into the records of the apartment building and the name his apartment is listed under is Pazel Jones. That turned out to be fake, but I got a hit in a mental hospital three hours north of you.

"Pazel Harris, currently thirty one years old. He was committed in nineteen ninety seven as a paranoid schizophrenic after he went bonkers and attacked one of his neighbors. He was there for a week and a half before he managed to sneak out and has been off the grid since."

"That sounds like our guy," Rossi said. "Do you have a picture?"

"Yes, but it is over ten years old," Garcia said.

"And we don't know what he looks like," Prentiss said.

"Yes, but we know someone who does," Rossi said, casting his eyes to the interrogation room.

"Do we trust him though?" JJ asked.

"We have to," Hotch said. "Can you fax over the picture, Garcia?"

"Already done, sir."

"Alright, thank you," he said, grabbing his phone of the table and hurrying over to the fax machine, pulling out a picture of a young man with shaggy brown hair. He walked over to the interrogation room and flung the door open. "Is this Pazel?"

"Hello again, Agent Hotchner. How are you? You seem a bit tense."

"Is this Pazel?" Hotch repeated forcefully.

Nikolas stopped and looked at the picture, studying it. He remained silent, staring at it longer than was necessary. _Just to get under my skin_ Hotch thought.

"You don't have anything to gain from lying to me," Hotch said.

"Fine," Nikolas said. "That looks like it could be him, but from several years ago."

Hotch turned to go without a word, but was stopped by Nikolas shouting after him. "Oh, but Agent Hotchner! Before you go. I want to come with you."

"Why should you?"

"Because. If I'm there, then Pazel will open the door. I'm probably the only one he'd open it for. And it would give you all an element of surprise. You'd catch him off guard."

Hotch stepped outside, and just as he'd hoped, the others were standing there, listening. He shut the door before Morgan spoke up.  
"I don't know about this guy, Hotch. He could tip off this Pazel somehow."

"But having the element of surprise might be good," Prentiss said. "If this guy is really as loony as we think, who knows what he'd do."

"And who knows what he's got in that apartment," JJ added.

Hotch looked back into the interrogation room, watching Nikolas smirk at the two way mirror. "He just wants to come to be in the middle of things. And he wants to know what happens," Rossi said. "But I think he might be too valuable of a resource to leave behind."

"We'd just have to make sure he was taken away immediately," Morgan said, nodding.

"Alright," Hotch said, going back in to face Nikolas. "Fine. You can come. But you will get him to open the door and that is it. You can't tip him off or anything. Got it?"

"Of course," Nikolas said. "This ought to be a blast."

The fleet of vehicles quietly pulled up to the old and cracking parking lot, sirens off. From what they'd learned from Nikolas, Pazel kept the windows blacked out, so they would hopefully be able to make it up to the top floor undetected.

The team, strapped in bullet proof vests, headed into the building, a few police officers accompanying them. Morgan had ahold of Nikolas, who had also been given a bullet proof vest. Unfortunately, in Morgan's opinion.

They crept silently up the stairs, Nikolas leading the way. Morgan grudgingly uncuffed him before they reached the right door, backing off so that they couldn't be seen and leaving him to stand there alone. Hotch gave Nikolas a warning glare, holding his gun out in front of him, and Nikolas nodded in his direction before knocking.

"Nikolas?" they heard after a few seconds. "Is that you?"

"Yes, of course."

"How can I be sure?"

"Ask me the question."

"Alright. When does the duck fly?"

"It doesn't fly. It is dead."

They immediately heard the sound of locks being undone, which lasted for almost a full minute. They tensed up and adjusted their positions. Until the voice called, "Alright. Come in."

The police men immediately moved forward and pulled Nikolas away, and Morgan silently walked over to open the door and cautiously stepped through. He could see Pazel walking away from him, towards the only piece of furniture in the room.

"Pazel Harris," he said firmly. Pazel shrieked and spun around, pulling a knife on him and slashing out with it, catching Morgan's forearm. He immediately started to back away, still waving the knife around.

"Who are you people?" he screamed. "What are you doing here? Get out of my home!"

"Pazel Harris. We are the FBI. We're here to arrest you for setting up four murders, and two attempted murders. Put down your weapon."

The whole time , Pazel had been screeching, backing himself into a wall and sliding down to the floor. "No! Go away! You're not real, you won't take me, you can't hurt me, I won't let you!"

"We're not going to hurt you. Just put down the knife," Morgan said.

"No, no, you're lying, you're here to hurt me and make me tell you my secrets, but I won't tell you, I won't let you get the chance."

"Pazel, listen," JJ said, stepping forward. She put her gun back in her belt holster. "Look, I've put away my gun. I can't hurt you, okay?"

She attempted to walk closer, but Pazel shouted louder. "No! Stay away from me, you can't hurt me, I won't let you, I won't, I can't let you, I have to stop you!"

Before any of them could react, he took the knife and cut a deep gash in his own throat. The knife clattered to the floor and blood began to trickle down his neck, staining the dirty white shirt he wore dark red. JJ started forwards as if to try to stop the bleeding and attempt to save him, but she fell back quickly, realizing it was far too late.

They slowly put away their guns, and for the first time they really looked around at the room they were in, noticing the newspaper covered walls, the definite lack of furniture, and the rank smell. Behind them, they could hear Nikolas laughing. "That poor bastard. He went and killed himself. He was a smart man, wasn't he?" His voice grew fainter as he was led down the hall.

They took one last look at Pazel, his eyes wide open and staring at them, before they walked back out of the dirty apartment, slightly dazed.

"At least it's over," JJ said as she stepped out into the bright sun. The rest of them nodded, as she'd voiced exactly what they'd been thinking.

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**What did you think? Let me know in a review please!**


	15. Chapter 15

A day later, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan and Prentiss were wrapping up at the station, taking down their board and packing up the last of the files. Hotch was talking to Detective Skinner and the police chief, getting the last of the details sorted out.

The front door of the station opened, and JJ pushed a wheelchair confined Reid through. Within seconds, once everyone realized who he was, the building broke out into applause for him. Reid looked slightly embarrassed, giving a sheepish wave.

As soon as JJ had him wheeled into the back room, he turned and asked, "Why are they clapping for me? I didn't do anything but get attacked."

"Yes you did," she answered. "You survived."

"Reid," Prentiss said, walking over. "How are you out of the hospital already?"

"I'm actually not. I've only been let out for the day, so we can get back home. They decided that I was well enough that I didn't have to take an ambulance. I just have to check in with a hospital once we get there. I might have to stay overnight again just to make sure I'll be alright. But then I can go home."

"Alright! Pretty Boy is on the mend," Morgan said, ruffling Reid's hair.

"Glad you're doing well," Rossi said.

"Thanks," Reid replied. "So you caught the guy? How'd that go?"

"Well, I wouldn't quite say we caught him," Morgan said. "We got there and got in and the guy freaked. He found himself a knife," he said, pulling back his sleeve to show the bandage on his arm where Pazel's knife had caught him.

"Ah," Reid said.

"Yeah. But that was the only damage he did. He killed himself not long after that."

Reid nodded. "If he was that crazy and you hadn't stopped him, he would have just kept on killing."

"True. And we did get Nikolas, after all," JJ said. "The infamous Gentleman."

"The guy who attacked me," Reid said. "Is he still here?"

"We were going to drop him at the prison on our way back," Rossi said.

"Can I talk to him?" Reid asked, looking around at them all.

"Are… are you sure you want to do that?" Morgan asked. "You're still weak. It might be overwhelming."

"I'm sure. I'll be fine. I want to do this," Reid said firmly, looking determined.

They all sat silently for a moment, debating. But eventually Morgan stood up and said, "Alright. But I'm staying with you this time. You aren't facing him alone again."

"Deal," Reid said, and Morgan directed his wheelchair in the direction of the holding cell.

"Nikolas!" Morgan barked as soon as he came into view. "You have a visitor." He parked Reid in front of the cell and leaned against the wall, staring Nikolas down.

"Agent Reid," Nikolas said softly, sitting up and taking in Reid's frail appearance.

"Doctor Reid," Morgan corrected.

"Ah, of course. Doctor Reid. I hope I find you well?"

"Just peachy," Reid said scathingly. "I have a few questions you're going to answer. First, why did you start killing?"

"Because I'm intelligent sociopath. I figured that out by the time I was twelve. Why challenge it? I'd already killed several neighborhood pets. And… it was fun."

Reid shook his head disbelievingly. "Why did Pazel pick the victims he did?"

"That, I can't answer. I really don't know. He spent all day long reading those newspapers of his. He must have seen something in you he liked. Or, should I say, hated."

"Last question. Why did you choose to attack me the way you did?" Reid asked. Morgan shifted uncomfortably, but Reid remained determined and calm. "You didn't attack anyone else like that before. So why me?"

"Actually, I had stabbed someone before. That researcher lady. I stabbed her so she couldn't escape the blast."

"But that was for a purpose. That wasn't the main way you killed her, you just used that as a means of making sure she didn't get away. You attacked me with a knife only. Why?"

"Well. What can I say? I'd had fun with that researcher. Stabbing her was…" he paused, sighing. "It was a rush I hadn't felt before. And plus, I thought it would be excellent to shed the blood of an FBI Agent in a police station. Poetic, in a way. And it was."

"You're a sick guy, you know that?" Morgan said angrily.

"Well, I meant no offense to you personally, Doctor Reid. I was given a job to do. And I decided I'd try to have fun with it."

"Get me out of here," Reid said, sounding disgusted. He ignored the farewell that was called after him.

"Did you get what you wanted from that creep?" Prentiss asked as they reappeared in the back room, which was now stripped down to what it looked like when they'd first arrived.

"More or less," Reid shrugged. "Are we ready to leave yet?"

"Almost. We just need to wait for Hotch to finish talking to the police chief."

Reid nodded. They spent a few more minutes talking about the case, filling him in on a few details he didn't know, before a knock on the door drew their attention. "Excuse me. I just… I heard you closed your case?"

"Ernie!" JJ said. "Hi. Yes, we did."

"You caught the man that killed my wife?"

"Yeah, we got them."

"Them? There was more than one man involved?" Ernie asked, taking a step inside. JJ motioned for him to sit down.

"Yeah. There was the guy who went around killing everyone, and the guy who picked out who he killed and arranged it all," Morgan said.

"So, my wife was killed by a hit man? Why?" Ernie asked, looking upset.

"The man who picked the victims was a paranoid schizophrenic. He picked out people he saw in the paper," Rossi said. "And your wife's article caught his eye."

"And these men are both in jail now?" Ernie asked.

"Well, one of them will be," Morgan said.

"One? Why only one?" Ernie said, looking upset.

"The man who engineered it all, the schizophrenic. He killed himself when we went to arrest him," Prentiss answered.

"Oh," Ernie said, not quite looking happy, but not angry anymore. "And the other?"

"He's sitting here in lockup. We'll be taking him by the prison on our way back to D.C."

"He's still here?" Ernie asked.

"Not for long," JJ said. "He'll be out of here in no time. We're planning to leave in a few minutes. You won't have to worry about him for much longer. He'll be going away for a long time."

"Good," Ernie said grimly. He stood up then, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Thank you, all of you. For catching him."

"It's what we do," JJ said kindly, standing up as well. He turned to leave, but before he walked out his eyes landed on Reid, seated in the wheelchair and still frail.

"I was an intended target as well," Reid said, before Ernie could ask. "I had a run in with him. But I'll be fine."

Ernie smiled at him. "I'm glad to hear that. Thanks again."

He walked out, leaving them alone again. "And that's why I do this job," Morgan said. "To get some justice for people like him."

Hotch walked back into the room then, asking, "Are we about ready to go?"

"Yeah. We're all packed if you are," Morgan answered.

"Reid?" Hotch asked curiously, noticing JJ stand up to push him.

"I'm well enough to come back with you. I'll go to a hospital in D. C. when we get there," Reid answered.

"Good to see you're doing so well," Hotch said, sending him a rare smile. "Alright, let's get going."

They stepped out of the room they'd occupied for the past several long and stressful days, closing the door behind them. Morgan walked down the hall towards the holding cell to collect Nikolas, but he'd barely taken two steps when a loud gunshot hit their ears. They scrambled towards the holding cell, where the noise had come from, pulling their guns.

Ernie stood there, backed against the opposite wall, his hands in the air and a blank expression on his face. There was a gun lying at his feet. Inside the cell, Nikolas was splayed on the ground, his eyes wide open and a pool of blood creeping across the ground around his head.

* * *

**What did you think of my ending? Good? Well, if you didn't like it, one of my friends (the one who gave me the inspiration for this story, actually) wrote an alternate ending, so if you'd like to see that leave me a review and tell me so! Either way, this is the ending of _my_ story, and I really do hope you've enjoyed it! Thanks guys!**


	16. Chapter 15: Alternate Ending

**Alright guys! Here's the alternate ending my friend Nick wrote! Sorry it's taken so long, but I hope you like it and that you've enjoyed the story!**

* * *

A day later, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan and Prentiss were wrapping up at the station, taking down their board and packing up the last of the files. Hotch was talking to Detective Skinner and the police chief, getting the last of the details sorted out.

The front door of the station opened, and JJ pushed a wheelchair confined Reid through. Within seconds, once everyone realized who he was, the building broke out into applause for him. Reid looked slightly embarrassed, giving a sheepish wave.

As soon as JJ had him wheeled into the back room, he turned and asked, "Why are they clapping for me? I didn't do anything but get attacked."

"Yes you did," she answered. "You survived."

"Reid," Prentiss said, walking over. "How are you out of the hospital already?"

"I'm actually not. I've only been let out for the day, so we can get back home. They decided that I was well enough that I didn't have to take an ambulance. I just have to check in with a hospital once we get there. I might have to stay overnight again just to make sure I'll be alright. But then I can go home."

"Alright! Pretty Boy is on the mend," Morgan said, ruffling Reid's hair.

"Glad you're doing well," Rossi said.

"Thanks," Reid replied. "So you caught the guy? How'd that go?"

"Well, I wouldn't quite say we caught him," Morgan said. "We got there and got in and the guy freaked. He found himself a knife," he said, pulling back his sleeve to show the bandage on his arm where Pazel's knife had caught him.

"Ah," Reid said.

"Yeah. But that was the only damage he did. He killed himself not long after that."

Reid nodded. "If he was that crazy and you hadn't stopped him, he would have just kept on killing."

"True. And we did get Nikolas, after all," JJ said. "The infamous Gentleman."

"The guy who attacked me," Reid said. "Is he still here?"

"We were going to drop him at the prison on our way back," Rossi said.

"Can I talk to him?" Reid asked, looking around at them all.

"Are… are you sure you want to do that?" Morgan asked. "You're still weak. It might be overwhelming."

"I'm sure. I'll be fine. I want to do this," Reid said firmly, looking determined.

They all sat silently for a moment, debating. But eventually Morgan stood up and said, "Alright. But I'm staying with you this time. You aren't facing him alone again."

"Deal," Reid said, and Morgan directed his wheelchair in the direction of the holding cell.

"Nikolas!" Morgan barked as soon as he came into view. "You have a visitor." He parked Reid in front of the cell and leaned against the wall, staring Nikolas down.

"Agent Reid," Nikolas said softly, sitting up and taking in Reid's frail appearance.

"Doctor Reid," Morgan corrected.

"Ah, of course. Doctor Reid. I hope I find you well?"

"Just peachy," Reid said scathingly. "I have a few questions you're going to answer. First, why did you start killing?"

"Because I'm intelligent psychopath. I figured that out when I was twelve. Why challenge it? I'd already killed several neighborhood pets. And… it was fun."

Reid shook his head disbelievingly. "Why did Pazel pick the victims he did?"

"That, I can't answer. I really don't know. He spent all day long reading those newspapers of his. He must have seen something in you he liked. Or, should I say, hated."

"Last question. Why did you choose to attack me the way you did?" Reid asked. Morgan shifted uncomfortably, but Reid remained determined and calm. "You didn't attack anyone else like that before. So why me?"

"Actually, I had stabbed someone before. That researcher lady. I stabbed her so she couldn't escape the blast."

"But that was for a purpose. That wasn't the main way you killed her, you just used that as a means of making sure she didn't get away. You attacked me with a knife only. Why?"

"Well. What can I say? I'd had fun with that researcher. Stabbing her was…" he paused, sighing. "It was a rush I hadn't felt before. And plus, I thought it would be excellent to shed the blood of an FBI Agent in a police station. Poetic, in a way. And it was."

"You're a sick guy, you know that?" Morgan said angrily.

"Well, I meant no offense to you personally, Doctor Reid. I was given a job to do. And besides, sick is a matter of perspective."

"Get me out of here," Reid said, sounding disgusted. He ignored the farewell that was called after him.

"Did you get what you wanted from that creep?" Prentiss asked as they reappeared in the back room, which was now stripped down to what it looked like when they'd first arrived.

"More or less," Reid shrugged. "Are we ready to leave yet?"

"Almost. We just need to wait for Hotch to finish talking to the police chief."

Reid nodded. They spent a few more minutes talking about the case, filling him in on a few details he didn't know, before a knock on the door drew their attention. "Excuse me. I just… I heard you closed your case?"

"Ernie!" JJ said. "Hi. Yes, we did."

"You caught the man that killed my wife?"

"Yeah, we got them."

"Them? There was more than one man involved?" Ernie asked, taking a step inside. JJ motioned for him to sit down.

"Yeah. There was the guy who went around killing everyone, and the guy who picked out who he killed and arranged it all," Morgan said.

"So, my wife was killed by a hit man? Why?" Ernie asked, looking upset.

"The man who picked the victims was a paranoid schizophrenic. He picked out people he saw in the paper," Rossi said. "And your wife's article caught his eye."

"And these men are both in jail now?" Ernie asked.

"Well, one of them will be," Morgan said.

"One? Why only one?" Ernie said, looking upset.

"The man who engineered it all, the schizophrenic. He killed himself when we went to arrest him," Prentiss answered.

"Oh," Ernie said, not quite looking happy, but not angry anymore. "And the other?"

"He's sitting here in lockup. We'll be taking him by the prison on our way back to D.C."

"He's still here?" Ernie asked.

"Not for long," JJ said. "He'll be out of here in no time. We're planning to leave in a few minutes. You won't have to worry about him for much longer. He'll be going away for a long time."

"Good," Ernie said grimly. He stood up then, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Thank you, all of you. For catching him."

"It's what we do," JJ said kindly, standing up as well. He turned to leave, but before he walked out his eyes landed on Reid, seated in the wheelchair and still frail.

"I was an intended target as well," Reid said, before Ernie could ask. "I had a run in with him. But I'll be fine."

Ernie smiled at him. "I'm glad to hear that. Thanks again."

He walked out, leaving them alone again. "And that's why I do this job," Morgan said. "To get some justice for people like him."

Hotch walked back into the room then, asking, "Are we about ready to go?"

"Yeah. We're all packed if you are," Morgan answered.

"Reid?" Hotch asked curiously, noticing JJ stand up to push him.

"I'm well enough to come back with you. I'll go to a hospital in D. C. when we get there," Reid answered.

"Good to see you're doing so well," Hotch said, sending him a rare smile. "Alright, let's get going."

They stepped out of the room they'd occupied for the past several long and stressful days, closing the door behind them. Morgan walked down the hall towards the holding cell to collect Nikolas, but he'd barely taken two steps when a loud gunshot hit their ears. They scrambled towards the holding cell, where the noise had come from, pulling their guns.

Ernie lay on the floor, unconscious. The smoking gun was laying on his right side, close to his hand.

The holding cell that had previously occupied the Gentleman was empty. There was a bullet hole in the wall only a few inches from where he'd sat when Reid had talked to him. His open handcuffs were on the floor in the middle of the cell, sitting next to the watch he'd been wearing.

Prentiss walked over and snatched the watch off of the floor. "Damn. Lock picks inside the watch. How did we miss that?"

Morgan swore as well, storming back into the Squad room. Three officers stood just outside the door. "Agent? What happened?" the one on the left said. Morgan noticed that all three had drawn their weapons.

"The Gentleman got himself out. No time for talking. You two," he replied, indicating the one who'd spoken to him and the one next to him, "go and search the entire station. He probably won't hang around inside, but it's good to be sure."

The two nodded and rushed off to begin searching, pushing their way through the people who were still in partial panic mode. "Agent? What about me? How can I help?" the last remaining officer asked.

"Officer Luther," Morgan said, reading the name off of his uniform. "You get outside and do a sweep of the perimeter. Take anyone you can with you, and make sure he doesn't get away."

"I'm on it, Agent. He won't get away with me out there," Luther replied.

"Make sure of it," Morgan said firmly. He watched Luther hurry out of the station, stopping to talk to a few others on his way, then hopping into a Squad car and driving off. Seconds, after he was out of sight, Hotch came striding out of one of the offices.

"The window in there is open. He must have gotten out from there," Hotch said, slightly out of breath. "Otherwise we would have seen him try to go. Why wasn't anyone watching him in there?"

A rather timid looking Officer that none of them had noticed walked up to them. "I'm so sorry. I just wanted to wish Doctor Reid a speedy recovery and thank you all for helping again. I was only gone for five minutes, ten at the most," he said sheepishly, looking back and forth between them all.

"None of us expected him to have lock picks in his watch, it's not your fault," Hotch said, looking distracted. The timid officer smiled all the same, looking relieved that Hotch hadn't shouted.

Skinner walked up to them then, looking furious. "What happened? How did this slime bag get away?"

"He had somewhere between five and ten minutes where he wasn't being watched," Hotch answered, leaving out the identity of the timid officer, who had scurried off. "He managed to pick his handcuffs. When Ernie tried to shoot him, he used the gunshot as a distraction. He's escaped through that window and is likely on the run now."

"I sent one of your officers outside to patrol around," Morgan added. "Luther. He may have spotted Nikolas by now. But probably not."

"Agent Morgan… are you sure it was Officer Luther you sent?" Skinner asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"That's what his uniform said and that's what he answered to," Morgan said, sounding angry. "So yes."

"But that isn't possible. Luther has been on vacation. And he isn't due back for another week," Skinner said.

"No," Morgan said, shaking his head. "That's not right."

JJ chose that moment to wheel Reid over to the conversation, Prentiss following close behind, ready in case the Gentleman tried to pull anything and finish what he had started. "What's not?" Reid asked, looking concerned.

"I let him walk away," Morgan said. "He was right in front of me and I let him go. Hell, I told him to go!" He was suddenly fighting a wall of rage that threatened to hit him at any moment. That sick, twisted… _bastard_.

"How?" JJ asked, looking back and forth between Morgan and Hotch.

Hotch let out a frustrated sigh before responding. "He's a master of disguise. He'd found himself a uniform and offered to help. He asked what he could do. There was no way to know."

Morgan cursed again, before striding to the door and flinging it open, going outside with Prentiss on his heels. They both jumped in an SUV, intent on patrolling around. And finding the Gentleman.

Two Days Later

A small, nondescript car pulled up to the edge of a cliff. The Gentleman stepped out, smiling to himself. He was miles, even states away from the police station he'd escaped from. They wouldn't find him again.

He pulled a disposable cell phone from his pocket, dialing the number of a floral service he'd gotten off the internet. He ordered seven black roses to be delivered to the Behavioral Analysis Unit back in Quantico. He thought he'd include their tech analyst this time, because she'd certainly had enough to do with tracking him down. On each rose would be a note, saying, 'Goodbye, BAU. It's been fun. –Nikolas'.

Then he walked up to a flat stone and placed his wallet, cell phone, and a few choice papers on the smooth surface. He placed Napalm on the stone, lit the fire, and sat back to watch it burn. "Goodbye, Nikolas. It was fun while it lasted."

He watched as the fire consumed the last remaining traces of Nikolas, before heaving the stone down into the ravine, ensuring that there was no evidence that he'd been there. That Nikolas had been there.

He walked back to his car and opened a secret department in the dashboard, smiling to himself as he did so. "Who to be next?" he asked himself, ruffling through the rows of wallets and papers.

He selected one of the identities he had hidden, and then opened a second compartment that contained his two guns. The ones he had left over from his work in the United States.

"I wonder what the weather is like in Russia at this time of year?" he asked himself, climbing in his car. He shrugged as he started the engine. He had a job to do.

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**Reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading! **


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